Stolen Hours
by HotchRocks
Summary: Aaron Hotchner is found unconscious in an alley. He has been beaten, and sexually assaulted. But for the team to find Hotch's attacker, they must solve a kidnapping case. There's just one problem. Hotch has no recollection of how he ended up in the alley, what happened to him, or what happened to the man he'd been out with earlier. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own the characters of Criminal Minds. They are the property of the Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios, and CBS Paramount Network Television. **

**Stolen Hours**

_'Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness.' - Euripides_

**Chapter 1**

Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner slammed his pen down on his desk, closed his eyes, and rubbed them with the fingers of one hand. Bone tired, he had spent the entire day in the office reviewing and signing off on reports. He hated paperwork and preferred to be out in the field searching for Unsubs, kicking down occasional doors, and rescuing the innocent. But today wasn't one of those days. In fact, the last few days hadn't been. The team had spent two weeks in Milwaukee, Wisconsin searching for an killer called 'The Rohypnol Rapist' by the local media. He had been blamed for the rapes and murders of four men with dark hair and in their forties. The team generated a profile after twenty-four hours and delivered it to the locals. As they did so, somebody raised the point that Hotch fit the description of the other men who had been killed. The agent quickly pointed out that his resemblance to the earlier victims wasn't important. It was catching and stopping a killer.

Autopsies showed the victims had Rohypnol and alcohol in their systems before the sexual assault. Semen had been found, as well as proof the men had been sodomized with a foreign object. Unfortunately, the semen resulted in no hits. The cause-of-death was manual strangulation. The team searched for days for their killer without success, and after a week-and-a-half there had been no new victims. The team now suspected their Unsub had left the area to points unknown. After one week, Hotchner and his team were ordered home by their boss, Erin Strauss. They reluctantly returned to Quantico, but left their profile with the local police department promising to return if anything new developed.

When everybody returned to Quantico, each of them found a stack of case files awaiting their reviews and signatures. And Hotch found himself buried in paperwork at seven p.m. in his office. Everybody else had packed up and gone home, leaving him alone in the BAU. Even Dave Rossi had gone. And Rossi usually didn't leave until Aaron did. But as long as he remained busy, Hotch didn't have time to think about the Rohypnol Rapist. Nor where he might strike next seeing as the man had literally fallen off the grid so to speak. Also, his five-year-old son, Jack, was staying with his aunt, Jessica Brooks, for the weekend, and he would not pick the boy up until Monday after work. So he was in no hurry to go home to an empty house.

The ringing of his desk phone brought Hotch out of his reverie. He grabbed the receiver with a sigh. "Hotchner."

"Hey, AM. How you doing, man?" asked the cheery male voice on the other end.

A slow grin appeared on Hotch's face as he recognized the voice. Only one person other than Rossi knew Hotch's full name was Aaron Michael Hotchner, after his father. And only one person had ever called him AM. His best friend and roommate while at Georgetown University, Darryl Wheaton.

"Darryl? It's great hearing from you. How have you been? Better yet, where have you been? I haven't heard or seen you since you moved away after graduation."

"I realize that, and I apologize." Wheaton paused for several seconds. "I'm in trouble, AM. Bad trouble."

"What's going on?" Hotch asked, dark eyes narrowing. He sensed his gut trying to tell him something.

"Not on the phone. Listen, I'm in town and really need to see you. Tonight if possible."

Despite being exhausted, Hotch sensed a need of urgency in the voice on the other end. "Just tell me where and when."

"In an hour. I'll be waiting in a bar called the Serendipity. Do you need the address?"

"I know the address. Let me call my sister-in-law first, and say goodnight to my son before he goes to bed. This way I won't wake him when he's asleep."

"Son? You have a son?" Darryl chuckled. "So ole AM got himself hitched. Never thought any woman would land you."

Hotch bit his lower lip as thoughts of his late wife Haley flooded his mind. There had been no way his friend could have known Haley had been murdered. The case had been confidential and never disclosed to the media. He sighed. "Someone did. His name's Jack. And he's five."

"Looks like we both have things to talk about, AM."

"Yeah, we do." Hotch looked at his watch. "After I call my sister-in-law, I'll head to the Serendipity. I should be there in about forty-five minutes, Darryl. Bye." Hotch disconnected the call and dialed the number for Jessica Brooks. His sister-in-law answered on the third ring. "Jess? Aaron. Listen, something's come up and I might not be able to speak with Jack before he goes to bed. Can you have him come to the phone so I can say goodnight? No. No. It's nothing serious." He frowned when told his son was taking a bath at the moment. "No. No. It's okay. Please tell him I called and I'll try and call him before he goes to sleep. Thanks Jess. Goodnight." After hanging up the receiver, Hotch quickly stuffed several files in his briefcase including the one on the Rohypnol Rapist. He grabbed his suit jacket, put it on, and left his office. He quickly made his way to the parking area, tossed his briefcase on the front passenger seat of his car, before getting behind the wheel and heading toward his destination.

* * *

When Hotch walked through the front doors of the crowded Serendipity bar, the first thing which greeted him was the loud music playing over the P.A. system. _At least it's not deafening, _Hotch told himself with a smirk. Once his eyes grew accustom to the dim lighting, he looked around hoping to spot his friend. It didn't take long before he found Darryl standing at the bar apparently nursing a beer and periodically glancing at his watch. A slow grin crossed Hotch's face. Darryl Wheaton hadn't changed one bit since Hotch had last seen him on graduation day at Georgetown University Law school. Hotch recalled that both he and Wheaton had been roommates while there. It had been during their freshman year they also became fast friends. They met when both were studying criminal law. After graduation, they intended to open their own law firm, but the day after graduating, Wheaton suddenly took off with no warning or word to Aaron. So instead, Hotch became a federal prosecutor. But he never stopped hoping he'd hear from his friend. He wanted to know why Wheaton suddenly took off without telling him. And though he thought about him often, after awhile, he was too busy with court cases, followed by the job with SWAT, with the FBI, and finally the BAU. He soon pushed all thoughts of Darryl Wheaton to the back of his mind. He wondered what had now brought him back to Virginia.

It was then that Wheaton's phone call came back to Hotch. His friend was in trouble and needed his help. Concerned, Hotch pushed his way through the crowd of people until he reached the bar. With his friend's back turned to him, Hotch touched his shoulder causing Wheaton to jump and turn around at the contact. The momentary look of fear on his face was quickly replaced by a wide smile at seeing Aaron Hotchner.

"AM!" he cried wrapping his arms around Hotch and giving him a tight hug as did Hotch. When the two men released and stepped back from each other, Wheaton smiled at Hotch and gripped his shoulder. "Damn but you look good. Really good." He ran a hand along the lapels of Hotch's suit jacket. "Nice threads, man. Expensive I bet."

"Not really," Hotch replied. "But I didn't come here to discuss the price of my suits. I came because you said you were in trouble and needed to speak with me. I'm here now. So what's wrong?"

Wheaton looked in the direction of the bartender and then his friend. "What do you want to drink, AM?"

"Scotch on the rocks," Hotch said. With a nod, Wheaton turned toward the bartender and ordered a Scotch on the rocks for Hotch. He waited until the tumbler had been placed in front of his friend.

Hotch sipped his drink and studied his friend closely. Despite the man not changing much since he last saw him, there was something different about him. Hotch's profiling ability told him the man was nervous about something; nervous and frightened. "So, you said something on the phone about being in trouble? What trouble are you in, Darryl, and how can I help?"

First tell me about your son," said Wheaton. "What's he like, AM? Who was the lucky lady who finally captured your heart? And do I know her?"

Hotch took another sip. "Jack's a great kid. He's five years old and smarter than the average five year old. Of course I'm prejudiced because I'm his father. But he's had to endure much more than a child his age should." Hotch sat his tumbler down on the bar, and removed his wallet. He pulled out his favorite photo of Haley with Jack and handed it to Darryl. The man studied the photo and smiled. "He's a real cute kid, AM. Looks kinda like you." He raised his eyes and looked at Hotch. "Pretty lady. But I don't recognize her. She's Jack's mother?"

"Yes," Hotch said sadly taking the photo and putting it back in his wallet. He sighed and tucked the wallet inside his inner jacket pocket. "Her name was Haley Brooks. We met in high school and became sweethearts. We married a year after we both graduated from college. She was a theater major."

"I'd like to meet her one day," Darryl said. "Any woman who can lasso Aaron Hotchner much be a real special lady."

"She was," Hotch replied sadly. His lower lip quivered. "She's dead."

"I'm sorry," Darryl replied and took a drink of his beer. "What happened?"

"She was murdered by a serial killer who wanted to torture me. He also wanted to kill Jack, but fortunately I got there before he could. But I didn't get there in time to save Haley." The pain in Hotch's eyes did not escape Wheaton.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. Is there another lady in your life?"

"It's too soon for that," Hotch explained. He picked up his tumbler and took another drink. "I didn't come here to discuss me. You asked for my help. Talk to me, Darryl."

Wheaton let out a deep breath. "I…I'm in serious trouble, AM. Considering what you do for a living, I knew you were the one who can help me."

Hotch's eyebrows knitted together. "Help you with what?"

But before Wheaton answered, Hotch's cell rang. He sat his tumbler on the bar, pulled out his cell phone, and checked the caller I.D. A smile appeared. He glanced at Darryl. "I have to take this," he said. "It's my son, Jack. He never likes to go to bed without saying goodnight to me when I'm not with him. I'll be right back." Hotch started to walk toward the main doors, but stopped and looked back at his friend. "Don't drink my Scotch," he said with a grin.

"I'll guard it with my life," Darryl promised. "Just hurry back, man. I really need to talk to you."

"Will do." Hotch smiled before he disappeared out the door to talk to his son.

The bartender watched Hotch walk out the door, then turned his attention to Darryl Wheaton who nursed his beer. He approached Wheaton and reached for the tumbler of Scotch. But Wheaton stopped him.

"Leave the Scotch. My friend's gonna be right back. He went outside to take a call from his son." Wheaton's voice sounded almost like he was begging.

The bartender shrugged his shoulders and walked away. People can be so weird.

Less than five minutes later, Hotch walked back inside with an amused grin and returned to the bar. He grabbed his drink.

"It never left my sight," Wheaton swore with a faint smile.

"I believe you," Hotch replied and took a drink. "And I trust you, Darryl. I do. If I didn't, I would've ordered a fresh drink."

"How's your son?" Darryl asking taking a drink of beer.

Hotch felt Darryl was procrastinating, although exactly why he had no idea. But from experience, he could not rush his friend. Like Hotch, Wheaton would talk when ready. "He's okay. I hope you'll be in town long enough to meet him." Hotch finished his Scotch and ordered another. He waited until the bartender placed a fresh drink in front of him. He took a sip. "Since I've been here, all we've talked about is me, my suits, and Jack. No more stalling, Darryl. Now what's going on with you? Either you tell me right now or I'm leaving. I've had a long day."

Darryl licked his lips. "I…I don't know where to begin."

"How about at the beginning?"

"I…I'm sorry, AM. I'm really sorry about this." He took a deep breath. "God, this is so much harder than I thought it would be."

Hotch, puzzled and frustrated, drained his glass, and sat the empty tumbler on the bar. "Sorry about what?" he asked staring at Wheaton with narrowed eyes.

Before Darryl answered, Hotch closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was suddenly dizzy and disoriented. He hadn't had enough to drink for his body to react this way. Also, he was drunk which he didn't think he should be. Not from two drinks. He was confused. He massaged his forehead.

"Wha…wha's happenin?" he slurred.

"Is something wrong?" asked Darryl, reaching out a hand and putting it on Hotch's arm.

Hotch tried to move and staggered a bit. The dizziness became worse. "I don…don…wrong…I can't…" The room spun and his vision became blurred.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" asked the bartender, concerned, as he approached Hotch.

Hotch gripped the bar to keep his balance as the dizziness persisted. Before he could figure out what happened, he fell against his friend who barely caught him in his arms. A look of panic came over Darryl's face not knowing what was suddenly wrong with his old college friend.

The bartender and Darryl exchanged looks. "Do I need to call somebody?" the bartender asked, worried. "Is he okay? He don't look so good."

Darryl kept a tight grip of Hotch. "He'll be okay," he said glancing at his friend. "I just need to get him outside for a little air. He'll be fine." He started to lead Hotch through the crowd.

* * *

He awoke on the ground in an alleyway, but had no idea what it was that woke him first. Was it being cold, or being wet. He was so confused right now it didn't really matter to him. His eyes opened a slit and tried to take in his surroundings. But being unable to lift his head, he couldn't notice anything. All he understood was he was laying on something hard, and apparently in a fetal position to accommodate the agony in his body. It was then he heard the sound of rain hitting him and the pavement, and suspected the rain was why he was so cold and wet.

He tried to move his body, and as he did, a groan escaped his lips. He also had a very weird taste in his mouth which he couldn't distinguish, and his jaw ached. All he knew was that it was unpleasant. His stomach was also nauseous. He tried to raise a hand to his head and winced at the motion as his fingers touched his head. Pulling his hand away, he saw blood on his fingertips. _Why am I bleeding? I don't remember being in an accident. _God how his head, face, and entire body hurt like hell. But he could not remember how he had been hurt. All he understood was that he couldn't stay where he was. He had to get out of the rain and somewhere where it was dry.

Slowly, he struggled to get at least to his knees, but stopped when his entire body cried out in pain. He opened his eyes again, and saw his clothing was disarranged, torn, and bloody in places. He winced at the soreness in his anus. In fact, the pain radiated in his genital area as well. _What the hell happened to me?_ He tried to lift his head and was at once overcome with dizziness and confusion, and gave up the struggle. Besides the confusion and dizziness, he had no memory of what happened and how he ended up where he was. As the dizziness became more intense, he lay his head back on the wet ground and closed his eyes. All he understood right now was that the cold wet ground seemed to take his mind off his painful body. He allowed the darkness to sweep in and overtake him again, swallowing him and taking him away completely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Benjamin Yardley, sixty, janitor for his small apartment building, carried four black plastic trash bags down the hall; two in each hand. It had been a long day, and the day hadn't ended yet, so he couldn't go home and rest. He sighed wearily. It was now Wednesday night. Garbage night. And as janitor, he had to take out the trash, and put it in outside trash cans for pick up the following morning by the garbage collectors. And despite the rain coming down, that task did not change. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights, he had to take out the trash for early morning pickup. And the weather made no difference.

Once he reached the door leading to the outside alleyway, he sat two bags down, unlocked the door, and watched the falling rain. With a shrug of his shoulders, he held the door open with his body, picked up the two bags, then headed outside into the rain. He quickly placed the bags in the only remaining empty trash cans, and started to turn away when he heard moaning. He looked around but didn't spot anybody.

"Who's there?" he called out wondering if the sound had been his mind playing tricks on him. Not getting a response, he again started to leave when he heard the sound again. This time he was sure it had not been his imagination. He was not alone in the alleyway. Yardley warily walked toward the opposite end of the line of trash cans from where the sound had come. As he neared the end of the row, he spotted something bulky laying beside the last trash can. But from where he stood, he couldn't make out what it was. He cautiously approached the bulk, mindful of being alone with no weapon with which to protect himself. When he got close enough, he was surprised to discover the bulk was a man, apparently curled up in a ball and not moving. He took a wary step closer, reached out a foot, and poked the man in his exposed side. "Hey, man, you can't sleep here. I said get up, man. Go sleep it off someplace else." The man didn't move but moaned.

Once he decided to take a chance, Yardley knelt beside the man, reached out, and touched his shoulder. The minute his fingers made contact, the man moaned and tried to move away. Yardley pulled his hand away, and noticed blood on his own fingers. "Holy shit!" he cried at seeing the blood, and then took in the man's disheveled appearance. He took a moment to take in the man's overall appearance.

From what Yardley could tell, the man was tall with dark hair plastered against his forehead from the rain. His face was bloody and bruised. Also, the clothes looked expensive, although torn, blood-stained, and ruined by the rain. "You look like somebody did a number on you man. Let's see who you are." Carefully, Yardley decided to search through the man's pockets. The moment his hands touched the man, the man whimpered in pain, and tried to move away again. After a moment, his whimpers ceased and he fell silent. Yardley pressed two fingers against the man's throat and found a weak but thready pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief the man had apparently passed out. The last thing he needed was a corpse on his hands.

He noticed the man's expensive-looking stainless steel watch on his wrist. Since it looked better than his old, cheap watch with its worn leather strap, he removed the watch from the man's wrist. He quickly took off his old watch and put on the new one. He smiled as he admired how nice it looked. Better than his old one. He began to wonder what else the man had on him of value, and quickly searched the man's pockets. He found a wallet and a wallet-size leather folder in the inside jacket pocket. Even the wallet looked to be expensive to him. _Humph. Expensive looking clothes. Fancy looking wallet. This man must have money,_ the janitor assumed, and figured any money still in his wallet wouldn't be missed. It was clear to him the man had been mugged, and dumped in the alleyway outside his building. A missing wallet would be believed to have been taken during the mugging.

He searched through the wallet and found no money, but did find a driver's license. He studied the name on the license. "Aaron Hotchner," he read. Not recognizing the name, he tossed the wallet with the license inside away, then checked out the folder guessing there might be something inside he can sell. The minute he spotted the badge and identification card with FBI printed on it, he swallowed hard as his eyes bulged. The identification card had the name Aaron Hotchner printed on it.

* * *

An hour later, the rain had stopped, and several police cars were now parked outside the alleyway cordoning it off to all but police. Uniformed officers were searching for anything to tell them what had happened. The ambulance had departed with the injured Aaron Hotchner inside only twenty minutes ago. It had taken time to stabilize the injured agent before he could be transported safely. Meanwhile, David Moeller, a plainclothes detective, questioned a nervous Yardley a short distance away from where the yellow crime scene tape hung. He could tell the sixty-year-old man was uncomfortable with so many police around, but he also suspected the man was not telling him everything. Yardley kept shifting his feet.

The detective held the FBI credentials encased in an evidence bag in his hand, looking at them with a shake of his head. He had known Hotchner for three years, from the time the agent and his team had helped with a local serial killer case three years ago. He was angry that somebody had done this to the agent. Someone who, in his opinion, was a good man.

"Detective!" a voice called out from near the end of a row of trash cans in the alleyway.

"Excuse me," Moeller said then left Yardley and approached the uniformed officer. "What is it?"

"I found this on the ground beside several garbage cans. It was either dropped there or thrown away by whoever attacked Agent Hotchner." He then handed Moeller a wallet, discolored from being wet. The detective took it in a Latex encased hand, and examined it carefully. "I suspect whoever attacked Agent Hotchner, tossed the wallet after robbing him. Or not finding anything, simply tossed the wallet."

"Did you find anything else?" Moeller asked the officer.

"Not yet, but we're still looking."

"Good. The wallet tossed away like that could be the result of a robbery or mugging. I suspect an attempted robbery and Hotchner fought back. Won't be sure until I speak with him. Damn shame, too. He's a good man. Hopefully when he regains consciousness, he can tell us who did this to him."

The officer glanced at Yardley over Moeller's shoulder. "What about him?"

Moeller looked back at the janitor. "Name's Benjamin Yardley; he's the janitor here. Says he was taking out the trash and discovered Hotchner laying on the ground unconscious. Said he searched his pockets to find out who he was, found the badge and identification, panicked, and called 911 right away. I'm not sure I totally believe him. Then again, I have no reason not to as well. But I do suspect he knows more then he's telling us. But for now, he's our best suspect."

"When are you going to contact the FBI about Agent Hotchner?"

Moeller let out a deep breath. "I already have," he said. "As soon as the ambulance left, I placed a call to Hotchner's Section Chief, Erin Strauss. She said she'd contact the rest of his team. I just hope the man will survive. The EMTs told me based on his injuries, it doesn't look good."

* * *

David Rossi sat in his plush recliner with his feet elevated, his eyes closed, but not asleep. He held a glass of red wine in one hand which rested on the arm of the recliner, and listening to Frank Sinatra singing 'Witchcraft' over his stereo. Of all the music from the early years, he enjoyed Sinatra and Dean Martin the most. After a long day at work completing paperwork, he enjoyed coming home and relaxing. He prepared a dinner of grilled chicken, sausage, onions, peppers, and veggies over linguine tossed in pesto, and a glass of wine. As he prepared his dinner, his mind drifted back to the office for a brief second. Hotch was the only one in the office when he left. He hoped the man wasn't still in the office, but knowing Aaron, he probably was. The man was a workaholic. And Rossi suspected his best friend was going to work himself into an early grave one day. He went so far as to invite Hotch to his house for dinner, but the man had declined the invitation. Rossi soon felt himself dozing off when the sound of his phone ringing woke him out of his fog.

"Cazzo!" he mumbled under his breath as he upped the recliner and got to his feet. He walked to the telephone, sat the wine glass on the table beside the phone, picked up the receiver, and held it to his ear. "Aaron, if you're calling me about a case now I'm gonna…" he snapped until he heard the voice on the other end. "Sorry, Erin. I assumed it was Hotch calling. Is something wrong?" His eyes narrowed as he listened to what she had to say. "What!? When? Is he all right? What hospital? I'm on my way. I'll call Morgan, Garcia, and Reid, and you call Prentiss and JJ for me. Thanks. I'll meet you at the hospital." He disconnected the call, and at once dialed Morgan's cell number.

* * *

Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia sat side-by-side on the couch in her apartment watching the ending of LOVE STORY on DVD on her flat screen television. A nearly empty bowl of buttered popcorn sat between them, and four cans of soda on the coffee table in front of them. They had enjoyed the movie which had been one of Garcia's favorites as she had been a romantic from long ago. As the closing credits rolled by, Garcia wiped the pads of her fingers over her cheeks to wipe the tears which had fallen at the end of the movie. She sighed and smiled sadly, leaning her head against the back of her hand, elbow on the back of the couch. She looked at Morgan who chuckled at the face of the usually bubbly tech analyst. He reached out and brushed a tear away from her cheeks with his thumb.(1)

"How come you're crying, baby girl?" he asked, amused.

"I don't understand you, chocolate stud muffin. You didn't find the end of the movie where she died sad? That movie is so romantic. I just love Ryan O'Neill and Ali MacGraw together."

"You won't catch me cryin' over a chick flick," Morgan chuckled. Garcia pouted and punched Morgan in the chest. "Owww." Morgan rubbed his chest. "That hurt, woman. What's wrong with you?"

"That's for that chick flick crack. LOVE STORY is a sad romantic movie. A love story so to speak. Hence the title LOVE STORY."

Morgan frowned. "Sorry, momma. But that movie, as sad as the ending is, is definitely a chick flick. I mean, you can sorta tell the ending was gonna be sad anyway." He smirked. "Now I cried during the DIRTY DOZEN."

Garcia straightened up, and slapped Morgan's chest. "A _war_ movie? Derek Morgan, you expect me to believe you cried during a _war _movie? You, my chocolate Adonis, are seriously brain damaged."

Morgan chuckled and about to respond when his cell rang. He groaned and grabbed his cell phone. He was surprised when he glanced at the caller ID.

"It's Rossi," he told Garcia with a roll of his eyes. "Man, it better not be a case." He pressed the phone to his ear. "Rossi, this better be good because…" The smirk on his face instantly disappeared and replaced with a serious expression. His eyes narrowed. When she saw Morgan's change of expression, Garcia became concerned. "How bad?" Morgan asked. "Is he all right? Do they have any suspects? No, I'm here with Garcia. We'll come to the hospital as soon as possible. Thanks, man." He ended the call and tucked his cell back in his pocket. He swore under his breath.

"What's happened? Who's hurt? Why are we going to the hospital?" asked Garcia, panicked.

"It's Hotch. He was found unconscious and beaten in an alley."

"OMG!" Garcia's mouth formed a perfect 'O.' Tears ran down her cheeks. "Any idea who did it?"

"Not yet. He's been taken to the hospital. We need to go."

"Is my liege all right?" Garcia asked hurrying to her feet and putting the bowl with the remaining popcorn on the table near the soda cans.

"Rossi isn't sure." Morgan said. He didn't want to frighten Garcia by telling her that things did not look good for their boss. He jumped to his feet and snatched his car keys.

"What about Reid, JJ and Prentiss? Did somebody call them?" She began to ramble. "OMG! Did anybody call Jessica? Poor little Jack. He can't lose his father after losing his mother."

"Calm down, sweetness. It'll be all right. Hotch is strong. He'll be all right. As for the others, Rossi said he and Strauss will contact everybody necessary."

* * *

Spencer Reid was wearing worn sweatpants and a tee-shirt with FBI emblazoned across the chest. He was curled up in bed, his back against his pillows, reading the book Robots and Empire by Isaac Asimov. It was the last of the series of mysteries. Within the last ninety minutes, he had finished the first three books in the series.(2) A cup of hot coffee sat on the night stand beside the bed next to his cell phone which sat on its charger. It had been a long day consisting of paperwork belonging to case files, and Reid, as much as he loved paperwork, was for once glad to be done with his. He turned a page in his book and as he reached for his coffee cup, his cell phone vibrated. He grabbed the phone from it's charger and checked the caller ID. Seeing Rossi's name he sighed, hoping the team wasn't being called back into the office. But Hotch usually contacted the team if they had a case. Why was Rossi calling? He pressed the phone to his ear.

"Reid here," he said calmly. "Do we have a case?" As he listened he sat up straight on the bed, his book and coffee now forgotten. "Is Hotch all right? Do they know who did it? Do you need me to contact anybody? Okay, I'm on my way to the hospital. Bye." He disconnected the call and sat still on the bed, stunned as a tear fell from the corners of his hazel eyes. _Who would do this to Hotch? Why Hotch? He has to be all right. I can't lose him. I need him to be all right._ Reid took a deep breath, hurried off the bed, and quickly changed out of his sleepwear. He snatched his car keys off the cabinet near the door, and his messenger bag from the floor. _Please be okay, Hotch. _With that in mind, Reid ran from his apartment downstairs to where his car was parked.

* * *

"Woo hoo!" Jennifer Jareau shouted as she ecstatically shot both arms into the air after beating two men at darts for the third straight game. Her friend, Emily Prentiss, sat at a nearby table cheering her on and applauding loudly at the victory by the blond. The room, normally loud in the evening, was not this evening. People were talking among themselves without yelling. "Okay boys," JJ said with a smirk. "The losers buy the winners a beer. So pay up, boys!"

The two men groaned aloud and feigned humiliation. They sat down opposite the women, and one of them gestured to a passing waitress and ordered four beers. In reality, the guys weren't upset at losing. They also were FBI agents but from a different team in the BAU, and were friends with both women. The waitress soon returned and placed a beer in front of each person. The quartet each picked up a mug of beer and clinked their glasses together before each took a swig.

"Where did you learn to play like that, JJ?" The brown-haired agent asked with an amused grin. "You and Emily beat the pants off of me and Sly."

JJ chuckled. "Jim, I've been playing darts since I was twelve. My dad taught me." She liked Agent James Carpenter. He was fun, respectful, and above all a gentleman. He also liked JJ's husband, Will LaMontagne, and he and his wife, Catherine, had attended JJ's wedding at Rossi's a year ago.

Prentiss shook her head tossing a strand of her raven hair over her shoulder. She smirked. "And she taught me." A wide smile appeared as she looked into the green eyes of Carpenter's friend, Agent Sylvester Lipton, aka Sly. Sly was a bachelor, and had a similar reputation to Morgan's. He liked to date a different woman each night, and did date Prentiss off-and-on for weeks. But he considered Prentiss more of a good friend he liked to hang out with now and then. Also, Prentiss felt the same way. Sly was a good friend, nothing more.

JJ was about to take another drink of beer when her cell rang. Nearly choking on her mouthful of beer, she swallowed quickly and put the mug on the table. She reached into the pocket of her jacket hanging on the back of the chair. Covering an ear with one hand, she pressed the phone to the other. "JJ."

The others saw the sudden change on JJ's face and realized right away something was wrong. Prentiss groaned suspecting there was a case, and Hotch was calling for the team to come into the office. Sometime the job really sucked. Then she noticed a tear roll down the corner of JJ's face.

"JJ?" she asked, concerned. The blond held up a finger indicating to give her a minute as she listened.

"Is he alive? Is he all right? Who did this? What happened? What hospital did they take him to, ma'am? Don't bother, Emily's here with me. Yes, ma'am. We're on our way." She put the cell away and wiped the pads of her fingers across her cheeks before facing the raven-haired Prentiss. "That was Strauss. Hotch was attacked and viciously beaten. He was found unconscious in an alley. He's been taken to a local hospital."

"Is he all right?" asked Prentiss, her eyes wide with fear.

"I don't know. Strauss told me it's serious. We have to go, Em." JJ grabbed her jacket and got to her feet as did Prentiss. She looked at Carpenter and Lipton. "We're sorry, guys, but we have to leave."

"Don't worry about it, JJ," said a concerned Sly. Both men knew, liked, and respected Aaron Hotchner. "Go. Please give Agent Hotchner our best. If there's anything we can do to help let us know. Hope Hotchner's gonna be okay."

"Thanks," was all Prentiss said as she and JJ hurried out of the club and to JJ's vehicle.

* * *

David Rossi paced back and forth in the waiting room of the hospital like an expectant father. Erin Strauss sat in an uncomfortable hard plastic chair with elbows on both thighs, hands clasped together under her lower jaw. She hated hospitals as much as Rossi. But the worst part was the waiting. She and Rossi had arrived about the same time. Both had been told Aaron Hotchner had flat-lined in the ambulance, and had to be resuscitated. And after arriving in the hospital and being examined, he was rushed into surgery. She lifted her eyes when Rossi sighed.

"David, sit down before you wear out a path on the floor. Please. You're going to wear yourself out with your pacing. Besides, it's not going to make the surgery go any quicker."

"I know, Erin, I know." Rossi stuffed both hands in the back pockets of his jeans and leaned his head backward to look at the ceiling for a few seconds. "But if I sit down different scenarios run through my mind about Aaron. And believe me, Cara, none of them are good."

"Rossi!" a voice called from behind him causing both Rossi and Strauss to look down the hall. Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia were nearly running toward them. "Is there any word?" he asked the older man.

"We've heard nothing since they took him into surgery forty-five minutes ago," Strauss pointed out brushing a loose strand of hair off her forehead.

"The only thing we know is that he flat-lined once in the ambulance, but they managed to resuscitate him," Rossi added. He saw Morgan run a hand over his bald head before slamming a fist angrily against the wall.

"What the hell happened, Rossi?" he asked. "Are there any suspects?"

"They're still investigating," Rossi replied. He could see tears rolling down Garcia's face. With a sad smile, he walked over to Garcia, and pulled her close to him. "Hotch will be all right, kitten. You have to believe that. He won't give up without a fight."

"I know," Garcia's muffled voice could still be heard despite her face being buried against the older man's chest. "I'm just so scared for him." She raised her tear-stained face up to look into Rossi's. "What if he doesn't make it this time? What if he…he…"

"Shhhh. Don't think that way, kitten. Hotch is tough. You just have to have faith."

"You're right," Garcia replied stepping back. She wiped her cheeks. "My liege is a fighter. Also, he has mini-Hotch at home to think about, so he won't give up without a fight. Besides, I have to be strong for Hotch. He needs us to be strong. But I promise when we find out who did this to him, they will rue the day they hurt mon Capitan. I will hunt them down like the slime they are. I will search under every rock until I find them."

Rossi's smile widened a bit. "I don't doubt it, Penelope. And don't worry. We're gonna find out who did this. And heaven help that person when they face the wrath of Penelope Garcia."

"Damn right," Garcia said surprising all by her swear word.

"Rossi!" called out another familiar voice. It was Spencer Reid. "Is there any word?"

"Nothing," Rossi repeated. "But it hasn't been that long since he was taken into surgery." He saw Prentiss and JJ hurrying toward them over Reid's shoulder.

"How is Hotch?" JJ asked.

Rossi repeated what he had just told Reid.

"Do they know who did this to him?" asked Prentiss, still in shock.

Strauss shook her head. "The locals are still investigating. When I spoke with them, the theory is one of three possibilities. One, that it was a mugging. Two, an attempted mugging. Or three, it was somehow related to one of your team's recent cases."

"That's crazy," Reid stated. "Who would want to purposely assault Hotch? Trying to rob him I could see. But going after…" His jaw suddenly dropped and an odd expression appeared on his face.

"Spence? What is it?" asked JJ worriedly.

"I know who attacked Hotch. At least I believe I do."

Everybody gathered around the young genius except for Strauss who stared at him, waiting.

"You do?" asked Rossi who learned over time to trust Reid's observations.

"Who is it, Reid?" hissed Morgan.

"I should have realized it before," Reid explained becoming animated. "But I was so worried after hearing about Hotch that…"

"Reid! Who?!" Morgan raised his voice becoming angry. He badly wanted to pummel the guilty party.

"The Rohypnol Rapist."

"The Unsub we couldn't find in Milwaukee?" asked Prentiss.

"Exactly."

Morgan held up both hands. "Reid, wait a minute. Are you telling us that you think the Rohypnol Rapist followed us to Quantico and attacked Hotch? That's not possible."

"Think about it," Reid continued. "We never found the Rohypnol Rapist and believed he had left the area. Point is, we never found him. Hotch fits the victimology. Tall, dark-haired men in their forties. What if he had targeted Hotch as his next victim, but never got a chance to act on it."

"But the Rohypnol Rapist left the area," Strauss added. "Why leave the area if you have your next victim picked out?"

Reid took two steps closer to Strauss so he was now looking at her. "I don't think he did. I think he was stalking Hotch and learning his routine while we were there. But Hotch was never alone, and at least one of us was always with him. He never got a chance to attack him. So he simply waited and continued watching. We mistook his inactivity as him having left the area when in reality, he was stalking Hotch the entire time just to throw us off the track."

"So you're saying this Unsub followed Hotch from Milwaukee back to Quantico just to attack him?" Morgan's eyes widened in disbelief. "Kid, that's a hell of a stretch."

"Reid's right," Rossi said after a few minutes. The others looked at the older man. "If this Unsub targeted Hotch in Milwaukee, and couldn't get to him because he wasn't able, it's possible he could have followed him here. We've seen this before with other Unsubs."

Morgan folded his arms across his broad chest. "Rossi, the Rohypnol Rapist raped and sodomized his male victims. We have no evidence Hotch was attacked sexually."

"I know. But if it is the same guy, we damn well better make sure he doesn't get away again."

"But first you need to talk to Aaron and see what he remembers," Strauss pointed out. She saw Rossi grinding his lower jaw. "What is it, David?"

Rossi's eyes were focused on Strauss. "Erin, Aaron might not be able to help much if at all."

"Why do you say that?" Strauss asked.

"Rohypnol causes the victim to feel drunk when they're not, especially if mixed with alcohol," Reid began. "It also causes confusion and dizziness as well as problems with memory." He looked worriedly at the older man. "What if Hotch was drugged and doesn't remember who attacked him?"

Rossi sighed grimly. "Then I'd say we have a problem."

For now, the team put aside their questions until they could talk with their Unit Chief about what happened, and who was responsible. Providing that he not only survived the surgery, but that he survived period. They all took seats around Strauss and prepared themselves to wait knowing it could be hours.

* * *

(1)The film LOVE STORY is a 1970 romantic drama written by Erich Segal who authored the best-selling book of the same name. It was directed by Arthur Hiller and starred Ryan O'Neill and Ali MacGraw.

(2) Isaac Asimov wrote The Caves of Steel in 1953; Naked Sun in 1955; Robots of Dawn in 1983; and Robots and Empire in 1985. It was a series of Elijah Baley mysteries starring the Terran Elijah Baley and his humaniform robot partner, R. Daneel Olivaw. It sounded like something Reid would read.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Several hours later, everybody still anxiously waited for word on Hotch from the surgeon. Garcia and JJ went to the cafeteria earlier and got coffee for everyone as nobody wanted food right now. Afraid if they left, they might miss the surgeon's report on Hotch's condition.

Rossi rubbed his forehead and let out a deep breath. "I have no idea how much longer I can just sit here without finding out something. This not knowing is killing me."

Strauss, seated beside Rossi, put a hand on his back and gently rubbed calming circles. "These things take time, David," she replied understanding his impatience over his best friend. "I'm sure it's taking a long time because they're doing all they can for Agent Hotchner."

Rossi turned toward her, his own face blank. "I hope that's all it is," he said blandly. Internally, he was more scared than ever. Hell, in their line-of-work, they had all been injured before, but nothing like this. His best friend, the man he considered like a son, was brutally beaten and left lying in an alley to die. _Who the hell does that to a person? _But more than being scared was the guilt manifesting itself in his gut. The guilt over having left Hotch alone in the office. Rossi lifted his head and looked up at the ceiling, his eyes brimming. _I'm so, so sorry, Aaron. I should have dragged you out of that office and made sure you went home before I left. And because I didn't, you might die, and I'd be responsible._ Rossi sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose hoping nobody noticed he was crying. A hand on his shoulder caused him to turn to the woman beside him. He saw Strauss offer him a comforting smile.

"He'll make it, David," she said with confidence. "You just hang onto that."

"I'm trying, Cara," he replied in a husky voice. "I'm trying."

JJ sat beside Emily who held the blond's hand tightly in hers. They tried to draw strength from each other while they waited for word. Emily saw JJ stare at a spot on the floor, and bit her lower lip before speaking.

"He's going to be all right, JJ," Prentiss said softly. "You have to believe that. Hotch is tough. He'll pull through, tell us who did this to him, and we'll find him and lock up the bastard."

JJ looked at the brunette woman and offered a weak smile. "I hope you're right on both accounts," she said. "I don't want to think of how we'll carry on without Hotch. How will Jack handle losing his father after he lost his mother if Hotch dies? How could we carry on without Hotch?" She swallowed the building lump in her throat. "Emily, do you…do you think…" She struggled to find the words she wanted to say.

"What?" Prentiss asked the blond with a puzzled expression.

"Was Spence right? About it being the Rohypnol Rapist who attacked Hotch?"

Prentiss hesitated a few minutes as she organized her thoughts. "I have no idea. Really I don't. I mean, it's like Morgan said, we have no evidence that Hotch was raped and sodomized. But if he was, the son-of-a-bitch responsible is gonna pay."

JJ placed her head in one hand and shook it. "This is a total nightmare. How anybody can do this to Hotch is beyond comprehension. And that someone did this to him, even without the sexual abuse, boggles the mind. And what if he was raped? How will he recover?" She looked at Prentiss. "How?"

"With help from us," Prentiss said. "We'll get him through this regardless of the sexual assault."

Garcia and Morgan sat side-by-side away from Rossi and Strauss where they couldn't be overheard. Morgan wrapped an arm around Garcia's shoulders and held her close. She rested her head on his shoulder. Morgan turned toward her when he heard her let out a deep breath.

"You all right, sweet girl?" he asked.

Garcia wiped at her cheeks. Right now, she couldn't flirt with Morgan. Not with her boss and friend fighting for his life on an operating table. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"About why somebody did this to Hotch? I mean, I understand you guys make enemies of the slime balls you meet while doing your job. But this…to intentionally hurt Hotch like this…" she couldn't finish and pressed a hand over her mouth as a sob came forth.

Morgan kissed the top of her head and put his chin on top of her head. "I understand baby girl. I do. But trust me when I say Hotch will fight, both for us and for Jack. He won't leave any of us."

"Derek?"

"What is it, baby girl?"

"What Reid said about it possibly being the Rohypnol Rapist. Do you…I mean, do you think it's possible that Hotch was…y'know…"

Morgan let out a deep breath. He hated the possibility that his boss, mentor, and close friend had been violated in the worst way possible, but it needed to be considered. If Reid's assumption proved to be correct that is. But until they knew for certain, Morgan pushed the image too terrible to consider to the back of his mind. He straightened, gently gripped Garcia by both arms, and turned her towards him. "Penelope, I want you to listen to me. Until we have absolute proof of anything other than what we know to be true, we can't jump to conclusions. Understand me?"

Garcia looked into Morgan's eyes. After a minute, she nodded and leaned her head against his chest as his arms circled her.

"I hope you're right, Derek," she said in a low voice.

Reid sat on the floor across from his friends with his knees drawn up, his arms wrapped around them. His friends left him alone, and for that, he was grateful. He wanted to be alone right now. He needed to be alone, and didn't deserve to have any friends around him. Not friends who cared about him anyway. His hazel eyes stared straight ahead at nothing in particular, but his mind was a jumble of mixed thoughts he shouldn't have been having. Thoughts of what he would do if the Unsub they didn't find in Milwaukee had followed them to Quantico just to get to Hotch. He realized Hotch fit the profile of the earlier victims, but when he had pointed that out to the Unit Chief, Hotch dismissed it as nothing more than coincidence. Reid blamed himself for not pursuing the issue with his boss. _I should have insisted Hotch take the necessary precautions, or gotten Morgan or Rossi to insist. I should have realized when the attacks stopped that the rapist had focused on Hotch and waiting for an opening. I missed it and looked what happened._ _Hotch, I am so sorry. I wouldn't blame you if you kicked me off the team, or never spoke to me again._

After he swallowed the lump in his throat, Reid lowered his head and his lower lip quivered. The guilt was enormous and growing steadily. He had failed not only his team, but his Unit Chief; especially his Unit Chief. He had made a mistake by believing the Rohypnol Rapist had left town as the attacks had suddenly stopped. If only he had stopped to realize that the rapist had spotted Hotch and now focused on him instead. If only…

He shuddered as he fought against the image of his boss suffering at the hands of the man he believed responsible. Reid ground his lower jaw so hard he thought it would break. He was positive the Rohypnol Rapist was still in Virginia as Hotch who, to the best of his knowledge, was still alive. He didn't care if anyone had doubts. He himself didn't. The bastard hadn't left any of his earlier victims alive. So why was Hotch still alive? Was it an accident? Had the attacker been interrupted or scared off before he could finish what he started? Did he plan on coming after the Unit Chief again to kill him? The fact that none of his earlier victims lived did not bode well for Hotch. He massaged his forehead against the thoughts running through his head.

_You bastard! You fucking bastard! How dare you attack the best man I have ever known in this intimate way. I promise I will end your fucking life when we find you. _

Reid was so angry right now he closed his eyes tightly. Added to that had been the fact he had never hated anybody in his entire life. He didn't like the idea of killing anybody in cold blood, but this was different. If anybody deserved to be killed, it was this bastard. Then again, Morgan might be right that they had no proof anything sexual had happened. Only the beating and leaving of Hotch in an alley. That had been bad enough. And if robbery turned out to be the case, he would forever bury his thoughts. But he suspected he was right, and it had been the Rohypnol Rapist, which would mean Hotch had been…_stop it! Don't even consider it!_ Reid ran a hand through his long shaggy brown hair. He had to pull himself together if he was going to help catch the bastard responsible. He had failed Hotch earlier, but he wouldn't fail him this time.

* * *

Detective Moeller walked through the front doors of the hospital. After his men had finished searching the alleyway and finding nothing else, the crime scene had been secured. The detective wanted to not only check on Hotchner's condition, but if possible, question him as to whether Benjamin Yardley had been responsible for his injuries.

He was still convinced the janitor was responsible, but he had no evidence, and suspicion alone wasn't proof of the assault. He approached the nurses' station while reaching into his jacket for his credentials. A petite redheaded nurse looked up and smiled.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked. He held up his badge for the woman to see. Her name-tag read Sallie.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Detective Moeller. I'd like to know into what room Agent Hotchner of the FBI has been moved?" He put his credentials back in his pocket.

"Hold on one minute, sir, while I check." Sallie's fingers raced over her computer keyboard. Several minutes later her eyes scanned the information on the screen. "I'm sorry, detective, but Agent Hotchner is still in surgery."

Moeller's eyes narrowed. His gut told him this wasn't good. "How long has he been in surgery?"

"Several hours now. If you'd like to wait for the surgeon so you can speak with him, you're welcome to join the others in the waiting area. Do you need directions?"

"I can find it. Thank you." With another smile, Moeller turned away and walked in the direction of the waiting area. He had been in this hospital several times in the past to visit injured or sick friends, and fellow officers wounded in the line-of-duty. As he neared the waiting area, he saw Hotchner's team along with an older woman with blond hair, he did not recognize even though she did seem familiar.

As he got closer, he saw David Rossi look up in his direction. The older man got to his feet and shook hands with the detective.

"Detective Moeller, it's good to see you again," Rossi said. He had liked the detective the first time they met three years ago. He quickly re-introduced the rest of the team each of whom Moeller remembered. Rossi then noticed the detective looking at Strauss. "Let me introduce Section Chief Erin Strauss. You spoke with her on the phone about Agent Hotchner."

Moeller smiled and shook hands with the Section Chief who got to her feet. "It's a pleasure, ma'am," he said with a faint smile.

"The pleasure is mine, Detective," Strauss replied with a small smile. "Are you handling the investigation into the attack on Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes, ma'am, I am. I was hoping to speak with him and get his statement seeing as we have a possible suspect."

After the others heard that, they quickly gathered around the two men and Strauss. Even Reid had gotten to his feet.

Rossi's eyes narrowed. "You have a suspect? Already?"

"Who is it?" asked JJ with arms folded across her chest.

"His name is Benjamin Yardley. He's the janitor of the building next to the alleyway in which Agent Hotchner was found. When I spoke with him, he says he found him when he was taking out the trash. He checked to see if he was still alive, panicked when he found the FBI badge and ID, and called 911."

"You don't believe him?" asked Morgan.

Moeller wrapped his arms around himself. "Not completely. I did at first when he said he panicked after he found Hotchner's badge and ID. But my gut tells me he wasn't being completely honest with me."

"What makes you say that?" asked Strauss.

"I have no proof of anything as I said earlier. But we found Hotchner's wallet near the trash cans; there was no money in it. Now it's possible whoever attacked Agent Hotchner took the money and tossed the wallet afterward. His watch is also missing. I noticed the lines of a stainless steel band on his wrist, but no watch. And we didn't find it anywhere in the alley, so we assume whoever took his cash took the watch, probably to pawn it. To be honest, it looks to be a simple mugging. From the beating Hotchner took, I'd guess about two, possibly three people overpowered him, dragged him into the alley, and proceeded to beat him viciously before robbing him. Then they took his cash and watch, and ran off leaving him in the alleyway. The only thing I haven't figured out yet is how he ended up where he did. From the address on his driver's license, he doesn't live in that area. So how did he get there?"

"You suspect this Benjamin Yardley kidnapped Hotch and brought him into the alley?" asked Prentiss suspiciously. Her gut told her this scenario made no sense, especially with Hotch being a trained agent who easily can defend himself against an assailant. With a glance at her friends, she suspected they felt the same way.

"I don't know. As I said, my gut tells me he's withholding something. Unfortunately, I can't arrest him on suspicion alone so I was hoping to speak with Agent Hotchner. If he can implicate Yardley in his attack, I can then arrest him and hopefully get him to roll on his accomplices. Right now I have no reason to bring him in other than my gut."

"So you suspect this is nothing more then a simple robbery gone wrong," stated Rossi folding his arms across his chest. He stared at Moeller intently. "And maybe…_maybe…_you have a suspect."

"Unless something tells me otherwise, yes I do on both accounts."

Reid listened to everything being said, and in his analytical mind, it didn't compute. It didn't make sense. He knew Hotch would fight tooth and nail if somebody tried to rob him. There was also a nagging question in his mind that he needed the answer to if possible. Sticking his hands in his pants pockets, he looked directly at Moeller.

"Was there any proof of a sexual assault involved?" he asked point-blank. The others paused and looked at Reid.

Moeller appeared confused. "If you're asking if there was any sign he was raped, I really couldn't tell you. Didn't appear to be. I mean his clothes were disarranged. But that could have easily happened during the fight with his assailants. Why do you ask?"

Strauss looked at Reid with concern. "Where are you going with this, Doctor Reid? There's no proof Agent Hotchner was sexually assaulted, or that this Rohypnol Rapist is even in Virginia."

But Reid plunged straight ahead anyway, and looked at Moeller seeing his confusion. "There was an Unsub in Milwaukee who got away before we could apprehend him called the Rohypnol Rapist who targeted men with dark hair and in their forties. After he raped and sodomized them, he would manually strangle them, and leave their bodies for the police. Hotch fit the profile of the earlier victims. I believe he targeted Hotch, but couldn't get to him because he was never alone."

Moeller was still puzzled. "And you're telling me this Rohypnol Rapist came here just to attack Agent Hotchner?"

Before Reid could respond, Morgan jumped into the discussion. "We don't have any proof of that, detective." He then looked at Reid who avoided his friend's eyes and looked down at his shoes.

"Sorry," Reid muttered, embarrassed. He knew he had to get a grip on his emotions if he was going to be any help in finding Hotch's assailant or assailants. But he just couldn't shake what his gut was telling him.

Moeller let out a deep breath. "I understand how each of you feels. But until I can speak with Agent Hotchner, and the doctor who examined him, we can't prove anything."

"Family of Aaron Hotchner?" asked a voice.

Everybody turned to see a man of average height with green eyes, wearing bloodstained surgical garb and a cap covering his head. His face was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that scared the small group in front of him.

"That's us, and it's Agent Hotchner," Rossi said as everyone gathered around Rossi. He introduced the others and Detective Moeller. Everybody then waited for the doctor to speak and tell them about their friend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The doctor studied the small group standing in front of him sensing they weren't really family members. But he decided to talk with them anyway.

"I'm Doctor Caswell. I operated on Agent Hotchner."

"How is he?" asked Rossi getting right to the point.

"Agent Hotchner flat-lined twice on the table during surgery." He paused when he saw the looks of despair on the faces of those before him. He couldn't understand why when it dawned on him. These people believed, from his words, that their friend had died during surgery. "I apologize for misleading you. Agent Hotchner is alive as we were successful at bringing him back both times." The looks of despair quickly changed to ones of relief and joy at his words.

"What are his injuries?" asked Strauss shakily.

"They are many. I will start with the non-surgical ones first. Agent Hotchner suffered 2 cracked ribs and 3 bruised ones. His kidneys were bruised as we found trace amounts of blood in his urine, but they will heal on their own with time. It appears he was struck and kicked hard in the area of both kidneys resulting in the deep bruising we found. His left wrist is fractured as is the ulna bone in his left forearm. Since the ulna is an isolated fracture, or what we call a nightstick fracture, we didn't need to repair it or his wrist surgically. We placed both in a cast. There was a deep laceration on his scalp which we cleaned and stitched. He also had deep bruising on his throat as if somebody tried to manually strangle him."

While there was concerned discussion among the group, it was mostly of relief that the injuries weren't of a too serious nature at least.

"And the surgical ones?" asked a worried Rossi bringing everybody's attention back to the fact there was more they still hadn't been told. He really didn't want to hear about Hotch's other injuries, but he had to if he was going to help his friend.

Caswell licked his lips before continuing. "Agent Hotchner was bleeding internally from a ruptured spleen which we removed. We had to give him several units of blood to replace what he lost."

Only Garcia gasped aloud. Morgan quickly wrapped an arm around her shoulders offering what comfort he could. But his eyes narrowed. He sensed the doctor was holding something back. "What aren't you telling us?" he asked.

Caswell let out a deep breath. "We also had to surgically repair his rectum. During the examination, we found bruising and bleeding from the rectum due to damage around the anus."

"What are you saying exactly?" asked Strauss, stunned, with a glance at Reid. "Are you telling us that Agent Hotchner was sexually assaulted?"

Caswell chewed his lower lip before continuing. "I'm afraid so. Agent Hotchner was sexually assaulted by more than one man aggressively with no concern for his welfare. We found semen from two men, and swabs were taken and sent to the local police." He glanced with a nod at Moeller, and turned back to Strauss. "There is also evidence he was sodomized with a foreign object although we have no idea what. In addition, traces of semen were found in and around his mouth." He stopped talking again when Strauss gasped and clamped a hand over her heart.

"Oh my God!" she cried, tears threatening. Rossi wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close.

"It'll be all right, Cara," he said softly. "You were saying, doctor?"

"Swabs were taken inside his mouth, and sent to the police along with the anal swabs." He again glanced at Moeller, then turned back to Rossi. "There is something else."

"What's that?"

"We found Rohypnol and alcohol in his blood work. We ran it twice to be sure there hadn't been a mistake made. We got the same results. Apparently Agent Hotchner was given a date rape drug before his assault. I forwarded the blood test results to the police."

"Good," was all Rossi could say, his anger mounting by the minute.

Garcia buried her face into Morgan's chest and sobbed. JJ clung to Reid who wrapped his arms around her as tears spilled from his own eyes. Prentiss covered her mouth with one hand and turned away from the others, feeling like she was going to vomit, and needing to deal with her rampaging emotion. Strauss leaned against Rossi as the full horror of what happened to her Unit Chief became clear. The news was worse than they had expected.

Taking out his notebook, Moeller made several notations, and put the notebook and pen away. "Our crime lab will check those swabs and see if we can get a DNA match to our suspect."

"Can we see him?" Rossi asked Caswell.

"He's still in recovery. You won't be able to visit him until tomorrow after we move him to a room. I suggest you come back tomorrow when he's awake."

"Thank you, doctor," Rossi replied grimly. He saw Caswell nod and walk away. He ran a hand over his salt-and-pepper hair and let out a deep breath. He faced Reid who reluctantly met the older man's eyes. He realized the younger man didn't want to say 'I told you so.' He understood the young genius suspected everybody felt bad enough as it was. Rossi promised himself he would never doubt Reid again.

"You were right all along, kid. Looks like the Rohypnol Rapist is in Virginia." He turned his attention to Moeller. "I want a copy of the lab reports and blood work sent to Quantico once your crime lab is finished with their testing."

"You'll get them as soon as possible," Moeller promised.

"We also need the street address of this Benjamin Yardley and a description of him."

Nodding, Moeller removed his notebook and told Rossi where the janitor lived. The alleyway where Hotch had been found wouldn't be difficult to find as the yellow tape was still present. He ended with a description of the man. "I left two uniformed officers there to stand guard to make sure nothing was moved or removed." Rossi nodded, and turned to Strauss.

Strauss at once spotted that familiar fire in his dark eyes. "Erin, I realize you are going to tell me that we need to stay out of it. But I will not let this bastard get away with what he did. As Reid said, this bastard followed Aaron here from Milwaukee with the intention of making him his next victim. And by attacking Hotch, he attacked the entire bureau."

"I realize that, David," Strauss replied. She knew what Rossi was going to tell her as he was as angry as she. Angry that someone had assaulted one of her best agents in this despicable way. "And I understand what you're going to ask me. And even if I deny your request, you'll do it anyway. So go ahead and investigate this brutal assault on Aaron. But just understand I cannot approve of this team's actions if the Director becomes involved."

"Understood," Rossi replied. He then looked at Moeller. "We don't intend to step on your toes, Detective."

"No apology necessary," Moeller interrupted the agent. "In fact, I was going to ask if you and your team could help with the investigation seeing as you're familiar with this rapist."

"What about your superiors?" asked JJ. "They won't like us just waltzing in uninvited."

"It's my case. I'll tell them I invited you. Once they understand Agent Hotchner was assaulted by a person whom the FBI was searching for, they'll have no problems. You're also welcome to everything we have so far. How soon can your team get started?"

Rossi looked at JJ, Emily, Reid, Garcia, and Morgan. He could tell from their expressions that they felt the same way he did. He turned back to the detective. "Since we can't visit Aaron until tomorrow, we start first thing in the morning. Inform me when you plan to speak with Aaron. That way one of us can be there. No point in both of us asking the same questions. One last thing, can you meet us at the location where Hotch was found tomorrow morning? Say about ten in the morning?"

"Why?" asked Moeller.

"We want you involved in the case as well. Also, I'd like you to show Agents Morgan, Prentiss, Doctor Reid, and myself, around the place and the building."

Moeller nodded and ran a hand over his hair. "I'd better get going then." He and Rossi shook hands. "Until tomorrow." He nodded at the others before he left.

Rossi watched the detective walk away. Then, he let out a deep breath and faced his team. He saw each of them looking at him with anticipation, determination, and anger. Anger at what was done to their Unit Chief and wanting to punish the guilty person or persons. "Everybody, tomorrow I want all of you to report at nine a.m. Morgan, at nine-fifteen, you, me, Prentiss and Reid will leave and meet Detective Moeller at the crime scene. Once we get there, I want you and Prentiss to speak with the janitor, Benjamin Yardley. See if you can find out where his path may have crossed with Hotch's. Reid and I will search the alleyway where Hotch was found."

"What about me and Garcia?" asked JJ tossing a strand of long blond hair over her shoulder.

"JJ, I want you to search Hotch's office. See if there's anything to show where he went after he left the office, or how he ended up in that alleyway." His eyes shifted to the tech analyst. "Garcia, I need you to find everything you can on Benjamin Yardley, and I mean everything. Also check Hotch's phone records. And by that I mean both his office phone and his cell. He might have been meeting somebody, or somebody may have contacted him and arranged to come to the office to see him."

"Oh God," Garcia stammered. "You think somebody maybe kidnapped mon Capitan from the BAU?"

"We have no idea as to what happened, kitten. Not yet anyway. I'm counting on you."

Garcia wiped her cheeks with her fingertips. "And I won't disappoint, sir. Consider it done," she said.

Strauss picked up her handbag from beside her chair. "I'll head home now. Keep me informed, David."

"I will, Erin," Rossi answered as the Section Chief walked away from the team. Later, as they prepared to head home, Rossi let out a deep breath and his eyes sought out Reid.

"Reid, we owe you an apology."

The young genius looked confused. "For what?"

"For not believing you about the Rohypnol Rapist following Hotch from Milwaukee to Quantico," Morgan added. "If we hadn't so readily dismissed your theory, we could have taken precautions where Hotch was concerned to keep him safe."

Reid chuckled. "That wouldn't have been easy. Hotch would have bitched every step of the way regardless. We know how he is when we try to protect him from somebody trying to harm him."

Rossi smirked. "You're right. But regardless, if we had, he wouldn't be laying in a hospital bed right now."

Emily's dark eyes narrowed as something came to her which didn't escape Morgan's observant eyes. "What's wrong, Prentiss?"

"I just remembered something," she said. "The Rohypnol Rapist manually strangled his other victims and left no survivors. Why is Hotch still alive? And why was he beaten and kicked? Our Unsub didn't do any of that with his earlier victims. After the Rohypnol took effect, he raped and sodomized them, and then manually strangled them. And Doctor Caswell told us Hotch was sexually assaulted, and showed signs of being manually strangled. So who kicked and beat him?" The others exchanged concerned looks among themselves.

"Did this guy maybe change his method of killing his victims just for Hotch?" asked JJ with folded arms.

"I don't think so," Morgan stated. "I mean, anything's possible. But if he went through all the trouble of following Hotch from Milwaukee to Quantico, I believe he would want us to know it was him. He wouldn't change that about himself."

"Morgan's right," Rossi added. "Our profile in Milwaukee showed him to be a power assertive rapist."

"What's that mean?" asked Garcia.

"It's someone who uses aggression to restore his or her self-confidence, authority, and control over another person," Morgan told her. He then looked at Rossi again. "What worries me is what Emily said. Why is Hotch still alive? By all accounts he shouldn't be. And why the added level of violence with the kicking and beating? "

"From that expression on your face, Derek, I suspect you have a theory?" asked Rossi.

"Yeah, I do. But you're not gonna like it."

The older man folded his arms across his chest. "Let me guess. You believe our Unsub may have a partner."

"We didn't profile this guy having a partner, but we have to consider it. The doctor did tell us they found semen from two different men. Also, having a partner might explain why the level of violence increased. The partner kicked and beat Hotch. Then they both raped and sodomized him, and our Unsub manually strangled him hoping to finish him."

"I don't think we really knew this guy at all," Prentiss added. "We may have to toss our original profile and start from scratch."

"What about Hotch still being alive?" asked Garcia, fear on her face. "Might he come after him again to finish him?"

"It's possible as he might have either been interrupted, or scared off before he could finish what he started, and needs to complete the job," Reid said.

"Will my liege be safe here?" asked Garcia, terrified by the thought their Unsub was out there somewhere and might come after Hotch again and kill him.

"No," Rossi added as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. He put the phone to his ear.

"Who are you calling?" asked Morgan.

"Someone I know in security," Rossi explained as he waited for someone to answer on the other end. "I'm gonna get somebody out here to keep watch over Hotch until we catch this bastard." He noticed Morgan about to say something and held up a hand indicating quiet. "Hello, Patrick? Dave Rossi. Fine. And you? Good. Listen, I have a huge favor to ask of you."

He proceeded to explain what happened to Hotch leaving out the sexual abuse. "I need for you to send a team of your best men. You can? Great. No, I'll be here and explain everything to them. Thanks again, Patrick. I owe you. Goodbye." He disconnected the call and tucked the phone back inside his jacket. "The head of security with the bureau is sending a team of his best men here in an hour to stand watch over Aaron until we catch this bastard." Rossi checked his watch, then looked at his team. "Look, they won't be here for an hour. I have to wait. But you guys need to go home and get a good night's sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow."

"You sure, Rossi?" asked Prentiss with a toss of her head. "I don't mind staying and keeping you company until they get here."

"I appreciate it, Emily, but I'll be okay. Now, all of you, scram! Go home. As soon as I take care of the security detail when they get here, I'll be heading home as well.

"You guys heard the man," Morgan smirked. "Let's get outta here." He watched the others start to walk away and prepared to follow them. He looked back as Rossi one last time and grinned. "See you in the morning…old man."

Rossi grinned back at him. "You better be glad I'm tired, or I'd show you how old I really am, Derek. Now beat it."

Morgan smiled his famous dazzling smile as Rossi sat back down to wait, then joined the others. Rossi watched his team walk down the hall talking among themselves, and crossed his legs to wait for the security detail to arrive. His team. He shook his head. _This is not how it's suppose to be, Aaron. You should be leading this team chasing this Unsub. Not me. Not this way._ He sighed as the back of his head hit the wall. _Don't worry, Aaron, _he thought, _we failed you the first time_._ But I'll be damned if we fail you again._ He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Darryl Wheaton sat alone on his worn leather sofa with a glass of Jack Daniels in one hand, and the half-filled bottle on the coffee table. The television had been on, and broadcasting the late night news, but he hadn't been paying attention. He continued to stare at the screen and took a large gulp of the whiskey, letting it burn on its way down his throat.

_What did I do?_ he thought to himself staring at the newscaster on the screen. _What did I do? I'm so sorry, AM. I never thought…I didn't have a choice. It was either you or her. I just couldn't…Oh God._ Wheaton downed the rest of the whiskey and quickly poured another. He raised the glass to down it, when a picture of Hotch appeared in the upper right-hand corner of the screen. Wheaton quickly grabbed the remote beside him and turned up the volume. He paled as he listened to the newscaster.

'_An FBI agent was found beaten and left for dead in an alleyway earlier tonight. The agent, who's identity is being kept confidential pending notification of next-of-kin, has been taken to an area hospital. He is reported to be in extremely serious condition following surgery. The motive seems to be robbery as his wallet and watch were missing. Police have so far been unable to question the agent, but hope to soon. There are no suspects at this time.'_

With the bile rising in his throat, Wheaton put the tumbler down carelessly, its contents sloshing over the edge of the glass and onto the table. Wheaton didn't care or notice. He jumped to his feet, and bolted for the bathroom where he raised the lid of the toilet, and emptied the contents of his stomach. When nothing more came out except dry heaves, he flushed the toilet before turning on the cold water faucet of the sink. He cupped his hands together under the water, and rinsed his mouth. Finished, he splashed cold water on his face before looking into the mirror above and studied his reflection. The image looking back at him filled him with loathing and disgust. _AM is still alive. He isn't dead. Thank God. _Wheaton shook his head before staring at his reflection again. _You should have just told him the truth. _He ran a hand over his hair. _You know why you didn't tell him, you coward. You promised. It was him or her. He wanted him and you promised. But he's still alive and that wasn't part of the plan. He wanted me to…but I couldn't. Oh God!_ Wheaton hung his head and let the tears fall unashamedly. He believed he had signed her death warrant.

* * *

An exhausted David Rossi walked through the door of his home. He tossed the keys to his vehicle in the dish on the table beside the door, and made a beeline to his liquor cabinet. He grabbed a bottle of his best twelve year old Scotch. Into a tumbler, he poured three fingers of Scotch, and downed the contents in one gulp. He quickly poured himself a refill and took a sip. It wouldn't do to get drunk. He needed to stay sober. But he was angry. Even if he drank everything in the house, it wouldn't be enough to get drunk. Rossi made his way to the sofa, picked up the remote, and turned on the television, wanting to catch the news. The first thing was a report by local news about an FBI agent found lying in an alley, the victim of a robbery. He swallowed a large gulp of Scotch at the photo of Aaron in the upper right hand corner of the screen. At least Aaron's name had been withheld awaiting notification of next-of-kin. _Thank God for small favors._ _N__ot that it'll make a difference to anybody who sees the news. _Rossi made a mental note to have JJ speak with the press in the morning to try and limit the coverage the story is sure to receive. He took another gulp of his drink and sat down in his recliner facing the television.

At least Hotch is safe for now. Patrick sent a security team to the hospital consisting of four of his best men. Rossi quickly explained that Agent Hotchner, though alive, was still in danger from an Unsub and needed round-the-clock protection until the bastard is either captured or dead. He made sure to leave out the details of Hotch's injuries especially the sexual assault. Before he left for home, Rossi assigned two agents outside his friend's room, and the other two inside on either side of the door. He also insisted that no unauthorized personnel be allowed into Hotch's room except for himself and members of the team, the doctor in charge, and Detective Moeller. If anybody else needed access, Rossi promised to update them at once. After the four agents shook hands with the legendary profiler and author, Rossi turned and left the agents to their assigned task.

Rossi took another gulp of his drink as his mind went over what the team discussed earlier in the hospital. But out of everything, three things bothered him the most. The first being Aaron is still alive. Why would this rapist leave his victim alive? What is the logic or reason behind it? Was it done purposely, or did he get interrupted before he had been able to kill Aaron? And if the latter, will he come after him again to kill him? Rossi smiled knowing that path to Aaron had been cut off by limiting all contact with the injured agent. But it still needed to be considered.

Second, did the bastard have a partner? Rossi agreed a partner had not been figured into their original profile in Milwaukee. And as Emily suggested, they might have to toss out their original profile and begin again, but this time, figuring a partner into the equation. And if he did, how did he figure into things.

And finally, what persuaded Aaron to leave the office when the last time Rossi saw him, the man had been buried in paperwork? Rossi understood Hotch being a workaholic. In other words, the man wouldn't leave the office until he had signed his name to the last file in his inbox. And Jack was with his aunt for the weekend, so he knew Hotch was planning on staying late. So how did he end up in an alley several miles from home? Rossi hoped Garcia and JJ would find the answer to that question in the morning. Rossi rubbed his tired eyes and let out a deep breath. He finished his drink and got to his feet. He switched off the television and sat his tumbler down on the liquor cabinet. "_The empty glass can wait until morning," _he told himself. Right now he needed to sleep to clear his head.

Someone was going to pay dearly. And Rossi hoped when they caught this guy, he would be able to control himself. Hotch was like his own son, and he was damned if he'd let whoever hurt him get away with it. He headed upstairs to his bedroom, thoughts of what he would do to this bastard in his head.

* * *

Wheaton still felt sick after leaving the bathroom, and it wasn't from all the drinking he did on an empty stomach. He walked back into the living room, collapsed onto the sofa in a sitting position, and massaged his forehead. He grabbed the remote, and switched channels until he found one giving the box scores of the baseball games. He needed something to hopefully distract him right now. Unfortunately it didn't seem to work. All he kept seeing was Hotch laying on the ground, battered, bruised, bloody, and being violently assaulted sexually. And as much as he tried to block it from his mind, he had been unable to erase the image. The image of that man thrusting into his friend's body repeatedly and roughly. The look of satisfaction on his face sickened him.

And to make matters worse, the bastard followed by having oral sex with Aaron. And again with a look of total satisfaction. But then the bastard ordered him to take a turn. Wheaton didn't want to, and he refused. But the man's reminder of the consequences changed his mind. Another wave of nausea hit him as he recalled violating his friend's body over and over, hearing him whimper from the pain. The man then ordered him to have oral sex with Hotch against his will. He didn't want to do it. But he had no say in the matter. The consequences of refusing too great. So he did what he had been told.

If anything, right now Wheaton hated himself for having taken part in the violation of his friend. Also, the man had lied to him. He had been told to make sure he got Agent Hotchner to meet him at the bar, and the Rohypnol put in his drink. All Wheaton understood about Rohypnol, was that was a date rape drug. But what he didn't understand was why Hotchner needed to be drugged. Had it been to make Hotch susceptible to the assault? That's when the man told him he had seen Hotchner in Milwaukee and knew then he wanted him, and intended to have him.

Wheaton had been horrified. He didn't understand what that meant exactly. He had to have Aaron? But once it the man explained what he wanted, Wheaton refused. There was no way he would do what this man wanted. That's when the man informed him, somewhat deviously, that he had no choice and would help him get Hotchner. If he didn't, the consequences would be disastrous. When he asked for an explanation as to what he meant, the man showed him. It was his choice. Hotchner or her. To Wheaton, the choice had been clear. He agreed, reluctantly, that he would help this bastard, and deliver Aaron Hotchner to him.

Wheaton was brought out of his fog by his telephone. He wasn't in the mood to speak with anybody, and afraid as to who it might be. Reluctantly, he approached the phone, checked the caller ID, and saw 'UNKNOWN NAME, UNKNOWN NUMBER.' He knew right away who was calling. He bit his lower lip, picked up the receiver, and pressed it to his ear.

"Hel…hello?" he asked with a shaky voice. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he heard breathing on the other end. "Is any…anybody there?"

"You lied to me," the voice on the other end responded coldly. "You told me he was dead and I believed you. You _lied!_"

"I…I didn't…I didn't lie. I thought…I really thought he was dead."

The silence on the other end sent a chill down Wheaton's spine.

"Need I remind you of our agreement?"

"I lived up to our agreement. You asked me to deliver Aaron to you and I did. You ordered me to…to have sex with him and…and I did, even though I didn't want to do it. I did it because you left me no choice. I kept my promise. Now let her go. Please!"

There was laughter on the other end. "I will decide when you've fulfilled your promise to me and not you. Hotchner is still alive. I want you to finish him."

"Wha…what are you saying?"

"I want you to kill him, Darryl."

"But that isn't necessary," Wheaton didn't care if he sounded as if he was pleading. "You said so yourself. The Rohypnol erases memory. He won't remember anything about the attack or who's responsible. There's no need to kill him."

"Are you threatening to disobey me? Need I remind you of the consequences of doing that?"

Wheaton massaged his forehead. "No. Please don't hurt her. She's only ten years old," he begged.

"If you want her to reach eleven, you'll do as I tell you." The silence on the other end scared him. "I don't like children, Darryl, but I'll make an exception if need be to get what I want."

"No! Don't you touch her!"

"Then you will do as you're told when you're told. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Wheaton closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He now had a fierce headache pounding behind his eyes. He let out a deep breath and opened his eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to kill Aaron Hotchner. And I expect the job to be done correctly this time if you understand my meaning."

"But agents might be guarding him."

"Not my problem. But, something you just said does give me a wonderful idea."

"What?" Wheaton asked. "Hasn't what you've done to him already been enough."

There was a chuckle. "You forget, Darryl. I wasn't the only one who enjoyed Aaron Hotchner's body. If I remember correctly, you were an eager participant as well."

Wheaton's temper rose. "I hated every minute of it. But then you didn't exactly leave me much choice now, did you?"

"True. But you did seem to me to be enjoying yourself once you got started. Am I right?"

"You bastard! Why the hell are you calling me? What do you want?"

"What I want is for you to arrange for the two of us to be alone in Agent Hotchner's hospital room."

"Why? What do you plan on doing?"

"It would be exhilarating to have Agent Hotchner's body again, and under the FBI's very nose. It would be so exciting to stick it to the Feds. Of course you will take part if you understand what's good for you. I want to experience him again. I so liked how he responded the last time. Afterward, I intend to rip him open. And remember, I won't hesitate to pull the trigger while doing so if you try anything. After that, _you_ will manually strangle him."

"Me?" Wheaton grimaced recalling having to watch the man sodomize Hotchner with his own weapon. He was just grateful the man didn't discharge the weapon while using it, even though the man had threatened to pull the trigger. "Why me? And how…how do you propose he be kept quiet during another attack?"

"You will kill him as you should have the last time. As for how to keep him quiet, that's for you to figure out, Darryl. Believe me when I say Agent Hotchner's last memory will be of his friend violating him in the worse possible way. Afterwards, he'll be dead and won't be able to tell a soul. But I do not intend to be patient. Disappoint me again, and little Alana will suffer for it. I'll be in touch." The phone went dead.

Wheaton hung up his telephone. What was he going to do to save Alana? He couldn't go to the local police. And he couldn't go to the FBI. Not after what he had done to one of their own. Wheaton ran both hands down his face. He was trapped with no way out. He should have told the man to go to hell. But Alana was only ten. Everything was such a mess, and he regretted having ever met this bastard. In fact, this bastard was the reason he contacted Hotchner. To help him get himself and his child out of this mess. He had planned to tell Hotch everything, and pray his friend could help him save Alana. But somehow the man discovered his betrayal. That was when he informed him he'd have a chance to make amends. Wheaton had been curious but afraid at the same time. So against his better judgment, he asked what it was he could do. What he heard next changed his entire life.

The man wanted Aaron Hotchner. He had seen the man in Milwaukee and knew he had to have him. That's when Wheaton realized who it was he was talking to having read the papers about the rapes. He told the man he was crazy and to leave him alone, to leave Hotch alone. He cringed as he recalled the man's next words to him.

"_You will bring Agent Hotchner to me, or Alana will pay the price."_

It was at that moment he knew he had no choice. He couldn't let his daughter pay for his mistake. He had been ordered to convince Hotch to meet him at the Serendipity bar. Once there, Rohypnol would be administered. Then he was to bring the agent to him at a specified location. Wheaton hung his head. This nightmare was never going to end.

"I'm so sorry for everything, AM," he muttered.

* * *

Derek Morgan had been trying to sleep since he arrived back home from the hospital. Unfortunately, he tossed and turned half the night while his anger grew. Giving up, he threw back the covers, but lay staring at the ceiling, careful not to disturb his dog, Clooney, stretched out on the foot of the bed. He glanced at the alarm clock on the night table. It was three a.m. in the morning, and he figured he wouldn't get anymore sleep tonight. He sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed wearing only his boxer shorts. Morgan ran both hands down his face before getting to his feet in the darkened room, illuminated only by the pale shaft of moonlight coming through the pale curtains. He noticed Clooney lift his head to give him a look, as if annoyed at being disturbed by his owner getting out of bed. The dog yawned, lay his head down, and went back to sleep, use to his owner's quirks and weird hours. He maneuvered his way into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out the plastic gallon container of milk. He took a long drink right from the container. After putting the container back in the fridge, Morgan decided to take a shower hoping it would help with his anger.

Morgan walked into the bathroom, and turned on his shower until the water got as hot as he could stand it. He removed his boxers, put them in the dirty clothes hamper, and stepped into the shower. He stood there for a few minutes with one hand leaning against the shower wall, letting the hot water run over his body. After ten minutes of standing there, he found himself recalling the phone call from Rossi about Hotch. He couldn't imagine the horror and pain his boss must have gone through while being assaulted. And being an alpha male, Morgan worried how Hotch would recover from being raped and sodomized. Would he see himself as weak and no longer capable to lead? Or would he consider himself damaged goods, and pull away from his friends and family who both loved and respected him?

Morgan swore and slammed a fist against the shower wall. His anger had not abated. He ground his lower jaw, and snatched the bar of soap from the soap dish. He began to lather his body. All he thought about is what he'd do to this bastard once they found him. He would make the bastard sorry he even heard the name Aaron Hotchner.

"I promise you, Hotch," Morgan said as he scrubbed his body. "We will find this piece of shit and he will pay."

* * *

Emily Prentiss lay in her bed on her side, wide awake. Her cat, Sergio, lay snuggled against her, his owner stroking his soft black fur. Prentiss was envious of Sergio and his ability to sleep so soundly. He had no idea of what had happened hours ago. Or how stressed out his owner was. _How can somebody do that to Hotch? It isn't right. Why do these things always seem to happen to you? You're a good man who doesn't deserve this._ She let her mind wander to what Hotch might be like once he recovers from this assault. Would he be the same man he was? Or he be forever changed by it? Prentiss smiled when Sergio adjusted his position and purred. She liked to believe he was dreaming and continued to stroke his head and back.

"You're so lucky, Serge. All you have to do is eat, sleep, and poop. You don't have to worry about people torturing you, or looking to harm you."

_We'll get 'im, Hotch. I promise you he will not get away with what he's done to you. And we'll help you get through this. You're not alone._

* * *

JJ lay curled up in her husband's arms as she lay awake in bed with her back against Will. She listened to Will LaMontagne's gentle snoring, and knew he was sleeping peacefully, and envied him. She recalled coming home and Will waiting up for her. He saw his wife in obvious distress and with wet eyes, and right away wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He asked her what the problem was. She somehow managed to get the entire story out before the floodgates opened. Will held her tighter and let his wife cry, as he fought to control his own emotions. He liked Aaron Hotchner very much, and was extremely angry something so abominable had happened to him.

_First the divorce,_ she thought._ Then Foyet attacking you in your apartment. Then listening to Haley being murdered over the phone. And now this? Why do these things keep happening to you, Hotch? Why? You're a good man and deserve to have a happy life. You didn't deserve what happened to you. Nobody does. But least of all you._

JJ felt Will's body shift against hers and she looked behind her to make sure he was still asleep. A small smile appeared on her face as she turned back again, and let her mind wander. She made a mental note to herself to contact the media once she arrived at work before anything else. Then she would try and gain the upper hand on what they released about Hotch's attack.

_He won't get away with what he did, Hotch. I promise you. He won't get away with it. And we'll be here for you no matter how long it takes. You won't have to deal with this alone._

With a sigh, JJ glanced at her alarm clock and noticed it was after three in the morning. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes, hoping to get a few hours sleep before she had to be at the office. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Garcia sat in front of her bedroom window staring out into the darkness. She had only a few hours of sleep before giving up completely, and parking her body beside the bedroom window. She found she wasn't really paying attention to those people walking the street. Her mind was on Hotch. As she thought about him, she wiped away the tears that continued to fall.

_Why you, my liege? Why would somebody do this to you. You never hurt anybody in your entire life. And for somebody to do that…_

Garcia's vision became blurred from the tears as she finally gave up wiping them away. They fell faster than she wiped them away so she just let them fall, and tolerated them dripping from her chin onto her chest. She let out a deep breath.

"Please, mon Capitan. You have to get better. And not just for us, but for mini-Hotch. Your son needs you. We need you. I will search under every rock, every stone, behind every tree, and look in every crevice. I will keep searching until I find the perverted bastard who did this to you. So don't you worry. We'll get him. You just get well and come back to us."

* * *

Spencer Reid lay beneath the duvet on his bed, staring at one of his bookcases. He was unable to sleep as he was sure the same was true of his teammates. Somebody had attacked their leader, their friend. And as Rossi told them once, an attack against one of them, was an attack against all of them. It was times like this that he hated having an eidetic memory. He remembered everything he had read on male rape and sodomy, and knew Hotch was in for a rough time. Also, he knew the statistics of men who were alpha males who fully recovered from an assault like Hotch's. He also hated knowing he had been right about the Rohypnol rapist. But Hotch would never have taken himself off a case once he found out he was a target. Reid grinned at the thought of Hotch removing himself from a case for his own protection. He wasn't a man to hide just because he was a target.

"I'm so sorry, Hotch. I mistook his inactivity for him having left town. Maybe if I had caught it earlier, I might have realized he was stalking you instead. And although I know it's not my fault, I feel responsible."

Reid turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He truly believed this time they would catch this bastard. _I promise you, Hotch. We will get him. He will not get away again. I will not let you down again. And I give you my word I will do everything in my power to protect you should he come after you again._

A look of determination appeared on Reid's face as he snuggled further under the duvet. Determination that he would not fail. Failure was not acceptable.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The following morning found JJ seated on the edge of a desk facing Morgan's an hour before everybody was scheduled to be in the office. Morgan was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the same desk on which JJ sat. She could tell neither of them had gotten any sleep, so like her, Morgan decided to come into the office early. The only ones missing at the moment were Rossi, Reid, Garcia and Prentiss. JJ informed him she had seen Garcia entering her lair to get an early start on researching Benjamin Yardley.

"What about Princess and Pretty boy?" asked Morgan with a sigh.

"Right here," Prentiss replied as she and Reid approached from the break area. They were each carrying a lidded Styrofoam cup in each hand. She handed one to Morgan who accepted it gratefully. He removed the lid and savored the deep richness of the black coffee as it slid down his throat. He smiled contentedly. Prentiss sat on the edge of Morgan's desk. They watched Reid hand a cup to JJ. "I figured we can all use a little fortification since it's gonna be a long day. And from the looks of both of you, I suspect neither of you got much sleep," she added taking a sip of her own coffee. Reid moved beside her staying on his feet.

"I still can't believe what happened to Hotch last night," JJ said. "I was hoping it was a bad dream. But when I turned on the news this morning while I got dressed, that hope was dashed."

"I know what you mean," Reid replied. "The same thing was on every channel I turned to this morning."

"You watch the television news?" Morgan asked with arched eyebrows. "I thought all you watched was Star Trek or Dr. Who marathons."

Reid shrugged. "They aren't on until this Sunday," he explained sheepishly.

"Anybody seen Rossi?" Prentiss asked. "I mean, he did say we should be here at nine a.m."

Morgan checked his watch. "Relax, Princess. It's only eight-thirty. He still has thirty minutes."

"Anybody find out how Hotch is this morning?" Prentiss looked from one to the other.

"I called the hospital before I came in," JJ said. "All they told me is he had a restful night. I couldn't get anything else from them."

Morgan shrugged. "That's better than nothing I suppose." He took another drink of coffee. "Y'know, I still can't believe this. I mean, Hotch never hurt anybody in his entire life. Why does it seem like bad things always happen to him? It's like there's a bulls-eye painted on his back."

"But how is Hotch ever going to recover from what was done to him when he finds out?" asked Prentiss with a grim expression. "This is different from when he was stabbed by Foyet."

Morgan let out a deep breath. "True. And we'll be here to help him through it just like last time. He won't have to face things alone."

Fifteen minutes later, a familiar and tired figure walked into the bullpen carrying a large Styrofoam cup. "I'm glad to see all the children present and accounted for," Rossi said looking at the others. "Where's Garcia?"

"She's with her computers doing what you asked her to do yesterday," JJ explained. "She said she'd call us the moment she found anything."

"Good." Rossi paused and took a drink of coffee. "We have no time to waste if we're gonna catch this bastard. He won't get away this time. He left Aaron alive for whatever the reason. We can't take the chance he won't come back to kill him."

"Did the security you requested show up last night?" asked Prentiss.

"They did. There are two guards posted outside Aaron's room and two inside his room. Only the six of us, the doctor in charge, and a nurse are allowed into his room. Nobody else unless approved by one of us."

"Seems to me it's gonna be difficult then for him to gain access to Hotch while he's hospitalized," Reid pointed out.

"Maybe," Morgan added. "But we have no description of this guy or his partner. Either or both of them may somehow gain access to Hotch despite the added protection."

"That's comforting to know," Prentiss replied sarcastically with a shake of her head. "So in other words, we can't trust anybody is what you're saying."

"Pretty much," Morgan replied. "And we have to make sure we limit access to Hotch. That means, like Rossi said, nobody has contact with him unless they've been cleared by one of us until we catch these guys." The others nodded their agreement.

"Rossi, were you able to find out how Hotch is this morning?" asked Reid. "All JJ was able to find out is that he had a restful night."

Rossi sighed and ran a hand over his thick salt-and-pepper hair. "I didn't find out much more. The doctor hadn't been in to see him this morning, but from what I found out, Hotch's condition is unchanged from yesterday. I'll call back later and check on 'im." He glanced at his watch to check the time. It was close to nine in the morning. "Okay, we don't have a lot of time. Let's meet in the conference room and review a few things before a few of us have to leave."

Morgan glanced at the older man. "Rossi, did you contact Jessica about Jack?"

"First thing this morning. She told me Aaron had called her yesterday and asked to speak with Jack. He said he might not be able to speak with him before the boy went to sleep. She told him Jack was taking a bath, and unable to come to the phone at the moment. I told her what happened leaving out the sexual assault. She was horrified but said she would keep Jack until Aaron was better. She won't tell him anything right now until we tell her it's okay. I suggested if Jack asks about his father, to tell him Hotch got called away last night on a case."

"That should satisfy Jack for a while anyway," Reid agreed. "Hopefully we'll have this wrapped up in a few days, and Hotch will be out of the hospital."

"That poor little boy," Emily said as her lower lip quivered. "No child should have to go through all this."

"No he shouldn't," Rossi agreed. "First his mom. And now his dad. We need to do everything we can." He noticed Morgan stare at him oddly. "What is it, Derek?"

"Tell me if I'm wrong, Rossi, but did Hotch call Jack back after his bath?" He saw the older man get a strange look in his eyes.

"I see where you're going with this," Rossi said. "And you're right, he would. Aaron always said goodnight to Jack before his son went to sleep. I asked Jessica about that. All she told me is that Jack called his father before he went to sleep, and she thought she heard music."

Emily's eyes widened. "Music?"

"Music," Rossi repeated. "That tells me he wasn't in the BAU at the time Jack called."

"But where was he?"

Rossi shook his head. "Good question. And who did he meet once he left here. That's what we have to find out."

The others got to their feet and followed him to the conference room to conduct their roundtable discussion.

* * *

Doctor Caswell was making his morning rounds, and had come to Aaron Hotchner's room. The agent had been moved late last night from recovery to a private room. He paused momentarily at the sight of the two plainclothes men posted outside his patient's room. It wasn't that big of a surprise really. Considering what had happened to his patient, he figured the FBI probably wanted their man protected. He would just have to put up with this minor inconvenience. After verifying who he was to them, they allowed Caswell to enter the room. Once inside, the doctor again was caught off guard by two more plainclothes men positioned on either side of the door. After calming himself, he studied the two men in the room who were studying him as well.

"I understand you have a job to do, gentlemen," Caswell began. "But I need to examine my patient, and it requires a little privacy. Can you at least wait outside until I'm done. It shouldn't take long."

The two men exchanged looks before stepping outside the room. They, without being told exactly, had been told enough to understand a few of Agent Hotchner's injuries were of a personal nature. Now alone, Caswell proceeded to examine his patient. After he finished the rectal exam, a low moan was heard coming from the patient.

"Agent Hotchner?" asked Caswell leaning closer. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

There was another groan and a subtle move of his head as Hotch's eyes fluttered and opened a crack. He didn't stare at anything in particular, and his eyes appeared unfocused.

"Agent Hotchner, listen to the sound of my voice. I need you to look in my direction."

Hotch slowly turned his head in the direction of Caswell's voice, but seemed to be looking past him. The movement itself caused him to grimace in pain.

"Hurt…" Hotch said in a husky voice.

"I understand it hurts. Can you tell me where you hurt the most?"

"Ev'ry…where."

"I understand. I'll have a nurse give you a morphine drip. That should help with the pain."

Hotch swallowed. "Where…am…I?"

"You're in a hospital, Agent Hotchner. Can you tell me what happened? What's the last thing you remember?"

"Not…sure…can't…re…member."

Caswell smiled. He patted the man's shoulder. "That's all right. Don't force it. Let it come to you on it's own. You just rest and I'll have the nurse come in with the pain meds and she will also change your dressings."

Hotch closed his tired eyes and allowed the darkness to sweep him away. Satisfied, Caswell left the room, and explained to the men outside that he was having a nurse administer pain meds to Agent Hotchner and change his dressings. The man who appeared to be in charge, nodded and sent the others back inside the room. Caswell walked to the nurse's station and relayed his instructions regarding the FBI agent. Afterward, he picked up the telephone, and pressed several buttons for the number on the medical information chart.

"Agent Rossi...Doctor Caswell. I'm calling to inform you that Agent Hotchner regained consciousness for a few moments. He has no memory of what happened to him. But I can't say with any assurance his memory problem is due to the Rohypnol or the fact that he just woke up after being unconscious. I will check again later. Right now he's resting, and I've prescribed pain meds for him. If you wish to speak with him, today would be fine. You're welcome. Goodbye." Caswell hung up the phone and continued with his rounds.

* * *

Rossi tucked the cell phone back inside his jacket pocket. The minute he realized it was the hospital calling, he put the call on speaker so the others could listen. After the call ended, the mood changed to one of hope that their Unit Chief would at least recover from his physical injuries.

"That's a good sign isn't it?" Prentiss asked with a slight turn upward of the corners of her mouth. "I mean, Hotch opening his eyes if only for a few moments is good, right?"

"It's good, yes," Rossi agreed. "But I wouldn't count on him being able to help with our investigation until we find out how much, if anything, he remembers from yesterday." He glanced at the time. "Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, we have to leave in a few minutes and meet Detective Moeller. JJ, you know what you have to do."

JJ nodded. "I'll contact the media first before I search Hotch's office. I'll contact you if I find something."

As Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, and Rossi got to their feet, the desk phone rang. From the caller ID Rossi could tell it was Garcia. He pressed the button putting her on speaker.

"You're on speaker, Garcia. What have you got?" asked Rossi.

"Your fairy godmother has good news for her subjects, my sweets. This Benjamin Yardley is a real piece of work. He's a dirt bag who belongs under a rock with the other dregs of the earth. He doesn't deserve to be among decent people. He doesn't…"

"Baby girl, not today," demanded Morgan in a stern voice. He and the others knew their tech analyst was rambling.

"Sorry. As I said, our Mr. Yardley is a real sleaze. He's been the janitor at a rundown place called the Hardwick Apartments for the last four years. He turned sixty years-of-age last month. Since he's been janitor there, several odd occurrences have happened."

"What occurrences, Garcia?" asked Prentiss.

"Several tenants who are not exactly the salt of the earth, complained about several items missing from their apartments. It was believed Yardley committed the thefts, but never proven. One year ago, he was suspected of raping an elderly tenant in a nearby apartment building by posing as a repairman. But she died before she positively identified him. And as there was no other evidence against him, he was dismissed as a suspect. Then six months ago, he was again accused of stealing from a tenant's apartment. The tenant, a Mrs. Jessica Boland, claimed it was Yardley and he was arrested, but got out on bail. But the next day, Mrs. Boland was watching television, and heard a tapping at her living room window. As soon as she raised the shade, a bullet came through the glass and wounded her in the shoulder. She dropped the charges claiming she now wasn't certain it was Yardley, and moved from her apartment and the state. The shooter was never found. "

"Have you located her yet, Garcia?" asked Reid.

"Not yet, my resident baby genius. But I am still looking."

JJ and the others exchanged looks. "Rape? Could be our guy," she remarked.

"Ummm-hmm," Morgan agreed. "Theft. Stealing. Rape. If he's not our guy, he could be the partner. Regardless, we need to talk with him. Good work, kitten. Keep digging. If you find Mrs. Boland, anything else on Yardley, or on Aaron's phone calls, you can reach one of us on our cell phone. JJ will be here searching Hotch's office. Oh, and Garcia…just so you know, Hotch regained consciousness for a few moments."

A loud scream of joy nearly deafened everybody in the room.

Morgan smirked. "Take it easy, mama. It was only for a few moments. We're hoping to speak with him later today."

"Give my liege all my love," Garcia said. "I shall be by later today for a visit. I promise I will be the Queen of Cheerfulness and Joy."

"Just make sure you don't mention anything about the rape to him, even if he asks which I doubt," Rossi warned. "He might not be able to handle knowing, and I don't want him upset under any circumstances. I also don't want him to know he was sodomized until he's ready to handle that information as well."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I apologize for the use of some rough language in this chapter.**

**Chapter 7**

Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, and Rossi got out of their government-issued SUV, and were met by Detective Moeller who waited for them at the crime scene. The detective looked as weary as the agents. He suspected they hadn't gotten any more sleep than he had. He shook hands with Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss, while Reid simply waved.

"Just thought I'd tell you, Detective…" Rossi explained impassively. "The hospital called us. Agent Hotchner regained consciousness for a few moments. The doctor told us he didn't seem to remember anything. But that can be from waking up as well as the drug. He gave us permission to speak with him today if we want."

Moeller nodded. "If it's okay with you guys, I'd like to head there after we're done here."

"Fine by me," Rossi answered with his eyes glued to the two uniformed officers standing guard outside the alleyway with the yellow crime scene tape behind them.

"They been here all night?" Reid asked as he and the others followed Moeller. He gestured at the uniformed officers with his jaw.

"I didn't want Yardley or anybody else to remove something we might have missed, or destroy something," the detective commented without turning.

Rossi stood in front of the yellow tape, and faced the others. "Morgan, you and Prentiss find Mr. Yardley. Reid and I will go with Detective Moeller, and then we'll head to the hospital and talk with Hotch."

Morgan glanced over his shoulder at Prentiss. "Let's go," he said as they headed to the front entrance of the building while Reid and Rossi ducked under the yellow tape after Moeller. They followed the detective to the end of the row of trash cans. The two agents stood and studied the taped outline of where their friend's body had lain. There was blood staining the area inside the outline. The way the tape was arranged indicated to Reid and Rossi that Hotch's body had been curled into a fetal like position.

"This is where Agent Hotchner was found," Moeller explained glancing at them. "He had been beaten and bloodied, and his clothes torn and in disarray. I stopped by the hospital before I came here to retrieve his clothes, and sent them to our forensics people. I had a rush put on it."

"Good," Rossi replied as he and Reid slowly walked through the alleyway checking every nook and cranny. The older man spied the police marker and stopped. "Is this where you found his wallet?"

Moeller nodded. "Yeah. It was tossed in the direction of the trash cans. As I told you earlier, there was no money in it so we assumed the perpetrator took it before he tossed it. We still haven't found his watch. We'll have all local pawnshops notified to contact us if somebody tries to pawn it."

"That won't be necessary," Rossi explained as he crouched down to get a closer view at the outline of his friend's body. "Tell me, detective, did you find his cell phone?"

"Not yet. It's possible whoever attacked him took that as well. Why don't you think we should tell the local pawnshops?"

"So Hotch's cell is missing," Reid said as he continued to look around the alley. After awhile he faced Moeller. "We don't believe he'll pawn Hotch's watch or cell. He probably took those as trophies."

"Why would he do that?" asked Moeller staring at the young agent.

"Probably as mementos of his attack on Hotch," Reid added. "Although why he didn't take Hotch's credentials instead is puzzling."

"How so?" asked Moeller, hands on hips. It still fascinated him after three years how these profilers worked with what he considered so little information.

"The taking of Hotch's credentials makes more sense than taking his watch and cell," Rossi continued. He bent over to get a closer view of where the wallet was found. "A watch and cell phone only mean something if one is a thief. They mean nothing to a power-assertive rapist. No, they were taken by somebody else. Somebody who found Hotch afterward and decided to help themselves to whatever valuables he had on his person."

"Somebody like Benjamin Yardley?" asked Moeller.

"Could be. His rap sheet includes suspicion of robbery of several of his tenants, as well as sexual assault of a woman. Stealing the valuables of an unconscious man after assaulting him wouldn't be a stretch. He certainly has the history. But we have no reason to search his apartment. Or do we?" Rossi looked at Moeller and waited for a response.

Moeller let out a deep breath and shook his head. "Other than my suspicions he's not telling us everything, no. I can't bring him in on my suspicions alone. And he's never been convicted of the other crimes. Also, we have no idea where his path crossed with that of Agent Hotchner. Here's hoping your agents can find something we can use to justify bringing Yardley in for more extensive questioning at least."

Both Rossi and Reid stood up and looked around one last time before focusing on Moeller. "Let's hope so," Rossi replied with a sigh.

* * *

Morgan and Prentiss, after asking several residents in the building, had managed to find Benjamin Yardley's apartment. Morgan knocked on the door. There was no answer. But there was the sound of a television playing inside the apartment. Morgan banged on the door loudly.

After a few moments, the door opened, and the agents were confronted by an overweight man in his sixties. He wore a stained-shirt under an unbuttoned striped shirt. His faded jeans also had stains on them, and were torn around both knees. The white sneakers he wore were worn and dirty as well. He also held an open can of beer in one hand.

"Benjamin Yardley?" asked Morgan, face impassive.

"Go away." The man took a gulp of his beverage. He started to slam the door shut in Morgan's face but the agent blocked the door with a hand. The door opened wider. Morgan and Prentiss both held up their credentials.

"Mr. Yardley, I'm Agent Morgan. This is Agent Prentiss. We're with the FBI." The agents put away their identification. "We'd like to speak with you about finding Agent Hotchner in the alley beside your building."

"That his name?" Yardley asked with obvious disinterest as he stared at Prentiss from head-to-toe approvingly. A lecherous smile appeared. "You're hot," he said and belched without apologizing. "Wanna beer, beautiful?" He held up the can.

"No, thank you," Prentiss said with disgust. She hated men like Benjamin Yardley who considered women good for only one thing. Also, the man's appearance disgusted her. She disliked men who took no pride in their appearance. Men like Hotch always looked neat. No matter what he went through, Prentiss admitted Hotch took pride in his appearance, even when he wasn't wearing a suit and tie. Even Morgan, Reid, and Rossi took pride in their appearances. But Yardley didn't care. Out of the corner of her eye, she sensed the man beside her entering his protective mode. "Can we come in and ask you a few questions?" she asked.

Yardley swung open the door, and allowed the agents to enter as he turned and walked away. He turned off the television and fell onto the sofa. He waited as the agents seated themselves on available chairs which showed signs of wear-and-tear. In fact, everything in the apartment showed wear-and-tear. The disgusting man kept his eyes focused on Emily's chest the entire time causing her to feel naked in front of this man. It only added to the disgust she felt.

"Mr. Yardley, run through for us how you came to find Agent Hotchner in the alley?" asked Morgan with arms on thighs. The man turn his attention to him and off of Prentiss for which Morgan was grateful.

Yardley shrugged. "No big deal," he began and turned his eyes back to Emily's chest. Not-so-nice images began to run through his mind. "I was takin' out the trash, there was a noise, and I went to see what it was. I found him curled up in a ball. After I checked and found he was alive, I searched for ID and saw he was FBI. I then called the cops. End of story." He smiled leeringly at Prentiss as he leaned forward. "You sure you don't want a beer, baby? I can offer you a sip of mine." He held out his beer.

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you," Morgan hissed, his eyes cold and hard as his alpha male was now on full display.

The leer disappeared from Yardley's face, and was replaced with an annoyed scowl. "You need to chill, man. I was just makin' polite conversation with the pretty lady."

Morgan pointed to the wedding ring on Yardley's right hand. "I don't think your wife would find your conversation polite."

Yardley snickered. "I might be married, but I ain't blind," he added turning back to Prentiss again.

"Mr. Yardley, did you see or speak with anybody in the alley before you found Agent Hotchner?" she asked, ignoring the man.

"Nope," Yardley slouched further in his seat. "Didn't see nobody. Didn't speak to nobody."

"How did you happen to find Agent Hotchner to begin with?" asked Morgan. "You said you took out the trash and heard a sound. What sound?"

Yardley shrugged. "I have no idea. Coulda been a groan, or a cry of pain. Can't be sure."

"How did he seem to you?" asked Prentiss with a tilt of her head.

"What d'ya mean?"

"Did you spot any injuries?"

"Didn't see none. But he pulled away every time I touched him."

"Touched him?" Morgan arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean by touched him?"

"Y'know. I had to touch 'im to search his pockets for ID, didn't I?"

Morgan's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Yardley, you were suspected of raping a woman in a nearby apartment a year ago. Did you do more than touch him? Did you sexually assault Agent Hotchner in the process?"

Yardley's eyes narrowed. "What do I look like to you? A fag or something? Is that what your agent is? He a pansy or something?"

"Don't get smart," Morgan hissed as the insinuations hurled by this piece of filth against his boss. A man he respected. "Just answer the question."

Yardley sneered. "I ain't into men," he said sarcastically. He leered again at Prentiss. "Could be he was bangin' one of his boy toys, and things got outta hand. He must like it rough." He shrugged. "I suppose it happens."

Prentiss rolled her eyes in disgust as she looked at Morgan.

"Agent Hotchner is a good man. And we would appreciate you not slandering him with innuendos. What we're asking is if you did something to him when you were with him in that alley?" she asked, annoyed. She was so ready to leave this animal's apartment. He took another drink of beer. Prentiss's eyes narrowed as something caught her attention.

Yardley chuckled. "I prefer women if you wanna know. Your agent didn't appeal to me at all."

As the man spoke, Prentiss's eyes never left Yardley's arm. "Mr. Yardley, that's a nice-looking watch you're wearing."

Yardley smiled as he switched the beer can to his opposite hand so he could admire the timepiece. "You like it? My wife bought it for me."

"What was the name of the store where she bought it?" asked Prentiss suspiciously.

Yardley shrugged. "Ain't got no idea."

Morgan found himself eying the timepiece as well, and recognized it right away as belonging the his boss. He was positive as Hotch had told him it had been a gift from his wife the Christmas before she died. Also, after Haley's death, he had gone with Hotch to his jeweler when the man wanted to have Haley's name and birthdate engraved on the back.

"Really," Morgan remarked. "That's interesting."

"Why?" asked the janitor with raised eyebrows. "You never heard of a woman buying her husband a gift?"

"No," Morgan replied rubbing the palms of his hands together. "It's just that it doesn't match your clothes."

"What are you talkin' about?" Yardley started to get angry. "My wife wanted me to have something nice."

"That may be, Mr. Yardley," Prentiss said with a toss of her head. "But it's an expensive watch. And from the looks of your apartment, you don't seem to be able to afford expensive items. If you want our opinion, you stole that watch from Agent Hotchner when you found him."

Yardley became angry. "You're a liar! My old lady bought it for me!"

"That watch belongs to Agent Hotchner and we can prove it," Morgan replied calmly as he got to his feet and approached the man. He grabbed the man's arm and as the man struggled, removed the timepiece from his wrist.

"Give it back!" Yardley hissed at Morgan, trying to snatch the watch out of his grasp. But the agent kept it just out of the man's reach.

"This belongs to Agent Hotchner," Morgan explained trying to stay calm. "I was with him when he had it engraved on the back." Morgan glanced at the back of the timepiece. He read what was engraved there. "Haley, 6/23/1968." The janitor ceased struggling and glared at the agent who handed the timepiece to Prentiss and removed his handcuffs. He jerked one of Yardley's arms behind his back and clamped the cuffs on his wrists. He then proceeded to read him his rights. When he finished, he searched Yardley's pockets and found Hotch's cell phone.

"Well, well, Prentiss. Look what we have here," said Morgan, his anger mounting. "I suppose your wife gave you Agent Hotchner's cell phone as a gift as well?"

"That's my phone, Fed! Give it back!" Yardley shouted in anger. "You don't know what you're talkin' about, Fed! I didn't steal nothing from your agent."

Prentiss turned on the phone and scrolled down the list of names she found. "He might be right, Derek," Prentiss said sarcastically. "Here's the names and numbers he's downloaded. Let's see…D. Morgan. J. Jareau. E. Prentiss. S. Reid. P. Garcia. D. Rossi, E. Strauss." As she turned off the phone, she glared at the man still struggling to get free of Morgan's grip. "Benjamin Yardley, you are under arrest." There was a look of absolute delight on her face. She put both items in two evidence bags.

Yardley continue to struggle. "You can't arrest me! I know my rights!"

"Good," Morgan hissed as he put a hand on the man's shoulder and jerked his body around until his back faced him. "You can call your attorney when you get to the police station. He forced the man out the apartment door with Prentiss following him.

* * *

Rossi, Reid, and Moeller were waiting outside when Morgan and Prentiss walked out with a still struggling and cussing Benjamin Yardley.

Reid was puzzled and Moeller surprised. Rossi chuckled having an idea why the man was in handcuffs.

"This is Benjamin Yardley, I assume," he said with his brown eyes focused on the man.

"You assume correctly," Prentiss said as she handed Hotch's stolen items to Rossi in separate evidence bags. "He was wearing Hotch's watch, and had his cell phone in his pocket."

"And I read 'im his rights," Morgan said tightening his grip on the man's arm. "Stop fighting!" he ordered Yardley.

Moeller smiled. "Looks like we finally have you, Yardley," he focused on the man. "If anything, we have you on theft. Stealing from a federal agent is a no-no. And I'm sure if we search deep enough, we can find evidence to connect you with your earlier crimes. You know, the ones up until now we couldn't charge you with." He looked at two of his uniformed officers. "Get him out of here," he ordered them.

Morgan handed the man over to the officers. "He's all yours," he added glad to be rid of the man.

After the officers had left with Yardley, Moeller stared at Morgan. "Can we charge him with the sexual assault of Agent Hotchner?"

Morgan shook his head. "From what he told Prentiss and I, I don't believe he sexually assaulted Hotch at all."

"But he has an accusation of rape on his record," Moeller argued.

"We know," Prentiss said. "But do you really think he could overpower a highly trained federal agent even one under the influence of Rohypnol?"

"If anything, he stole from Hotch when he found 'im," Morgan explained. "Took his watch and cell phone. Probably any cash Hotch had in his wallet, and freaked when he found out Hotch was a federal agent. Then he called the cops."

Moeller nodded. "I'm sure we'll find his fingerprints on Agent Hotchner's wallet. Also, I'll have men search Yardley's apartment. Maybe we'll get lucky." He saw Morgan cross his arms across his chest. "What?"

Morgan let out a deep breath. "I'm not sure. But there's something about that guy. I need to talk with him in detail." He looked at the others. "Detective, if it's okay with you, I'd like to interrogate Yardley at police headquarters, while you and Agent Rossi talk with Hotch at the hospital."

"I have no problem with saying yes," Moeller replied. "You just said yourself he didn't sexually assault Agent Hotchner. So why do you need to speak with him again?"

"I don't know," Morgan's eyes narrowed. "But there's something I believe he isn't telling us."

"You think he might have seen or heard something at the time Hotch was attacked?" asked Rossi with knitted eyebrows.

"Could be. Could be something else. But this guys knows something."

Moeller nodded. "Go ahead. Tell whoever you have my permission and they can call me if they have a problem. Let us know what you find out."

"I will."

"What should Reid and I do?" Prentiss looked at Rossi.

"Go back to the BAU. I need you and Reid to go over everything we learned about the Rohypnol rapist and see if there's anything we missed. We need to set up a new timeline. I'll be back after Detective Moeller and I speak with Hotch."

That said, the agents and Detective left to carry out their assigned tasks.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

JJ let out a deep breath after searching her boss's desk calendar. She hoped to discover if he had written anything from the night before, but found nothing**. **"Damn it, Hotch," she muttered. JJ had searched every possible place she could think of, and had been unable to find any clue as to where her boss had gone. With a shake of her head, the only place JJ had left to search was her boss's desk drawers, but doubtful of finding anything there.

She didn't like going through Hotch's desk because to her, it was like invading his privacy. JJ understood how Hotch valued his privacy. If he discovered somebody had searched through his desk and office, he would be upset at the invasion of his privacy. As she was rummaging his middle desk drawer, her cell phone rang. With a sigh, JJ reached into her pocket, removed her phone, and checked the caller ID. She smiled when she noticed it was Garcia. She pressed the phone to her ear.

"Tell me you found something, Garcia, because I'm striking out in Hotch's office."

"Oh you better believe it, sunshine," Garcia sounded bubbly. "I hit the bulls-eye. While I can't trace my liege's phone to tell you where he's been, I _can_ tell you one thing. He received a phone call last evening from somebody named Darryl. No last name mentioned. It was this Darryl who suggested Hotch meet him at a bar called the Serendipity. I was unable to find a phone number for this Darryl as I have no surname. So I tried to find a return phone number, but he used a burn phone. Sorry."

JJ smiled. "Don't be sorry, Garcia. At least we have an idea where Hotch went from here, and with somebody named Darryl. Was there any sign Hotch was coerced into meeting with this person?"

"None that I can tell, bubbles. From what I can find out, Hotch seemed very comfortable talking with this person. In fact, I got the impression that he knew this person. But I don't recall him ever mentioning someone named Darryl, do you?"

"Now that you mention it, no. Maybe Rossi has. I mean Hotch shares a lot of stuff with him that he doesn't with us. I'll ask him when I talk to him. Anything else?"

"Sorry, sugarplum. But I'll keep looking. Garcia out." The call was disconnected.

* * *

The drive to the hospital was made in silence as both Rossi and Moeller were both lost in their own individual thoughts. Moeller was staring out of the front passenger seat window while Rossi was driving. After a few minutes of watching the passing scenery, he turned toward the older man.

"You don't think Agent Hotchner will be able to help us, do you?" he asked the agent.

Rossi let out a deep breath. "Not really," he replied. "But I'm hoping he can at least give us a clue as to who he met, or where he went, before the Rohypnol took effect. That's about all we can hope for from him. But I'm more concerned about helping him get past this when he finds out what was done to him."

Moeller remained silent for a few minutes. "Of course you know him better than I do. But from what little I do know, he seems like a man who can overcome this."

"Normally I would agree with you," Rossi replied. "But Hotch hasn't completely healed internally. I'm just afraid this will either set him back, or destroy any recovery he's made."

Moeller narrowed his eyes. "Why do you say that?"

Rossi bit his lower lip and faced the detective. "A monster calling himself the Reaper, attacked Aaron with a knife in his own home. Then he went after Hotch's ex-wife and son. He killed Haley and would've killed five-year-old Jack if Hotch hadn't killed him." He saw Moeller stare at him in shock. The case had been kept out of the print media by the bureau for the sakes of Jack and Hotch. The detective nodded and swallowed any further questions he might have had. This insight gave him a better understanding of why Hotchner's team were so protective of their boss. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when the ringing of Rossi's cell phone interrupted. The older man reached in his inner jacket pocket with one hand, and removed the phone. "It's JJ," he told Moeller after checking the caller ID, and pressed a button. "You're on speaker, JJ. What did you find?"

"I didn't find anything in Hotch's office," the blond explained. "I searched everywhere I can think of where Hotch might have written something down to remind himself of a meeting. But Garcia found something. Hotch received a phone call late yesterday evening in his office from somebody named Darryl, no surname. Rossi, did Hotch ever mention somebody with that first name to you?"

"Not that I can recall. Was Garcia able to find out where Hotch may have gone after he left the BAU?"

"Yes. This Darryl used a burn phone when he called Hotch so it can't be traced. But Rossi, Darryl suggested Hotch meet him at a bar called the Serendipity. That's only a few blocks from here."

"JJ, before I forget, did you speak with the press?" asked Rossi, worried.

"I did. They agreed to hold back on reporting anything more on Hotch being the victim of a violent crime until we give them to go ahead."

"Good work, JJ," Rossi remarked. "Tell Garcia the same."

"I will. What else can I do?"

"Reid and Prentiss are heading back to the office. Go over everything we have on the Unsub with them. We need to reestablish the timeline, and where Hotch falls into it. Also, the Serendipity has surveillance cameras. Have Garcia hack into their surveillance system and find if Hotch was there with this Darryl. Maybe we'll get lucky. Detective Moeller and I are on our way to the hospital to speak with Hotch."

"Will do. Good luck, and give Hotch our love."

"Will do, kiddo." The call was disconnected. After he put the phone back in his pocket, Rossi glanced at Moeller, and could hear the wheels turning in the detective's head. "At least we have a name as well as where Aaron went after he left the BAU last night." He spotted the look on Moeller's face. "What are you thinking?"

Moeller let out a deep breath. "I was just wondering if Agent Hotchner even made it to the Serendipity. I mean, just because he was going there doesn't mean he made it. And if he didn't make it there…"

Rossi nodded his understanding. "Then we may have a harder time finding out where he met this Darryl, and where they went." He let out a breath. "Well, before we moan over what we don't have, let's wait and see what Garcia finds out. I've learned not to underestimate her. If there's anyway to trace Hotch's movements, she will find it. You just gotta have a little faith, my friend."

Moeller chuckled. "After what I saw three years ago, I don't doubt your team's abilities. But you didn't find this guy in Milwaukee."

Rossi sighed. "We made a mistake, Detective. One that we won't make again I assure you. This guy will pay for what he's done. And if he has a partner, he'll pay as well. When he attacked Hotch, he attacked the entire bureau."

Moeller understood where the agent was coming from as he stared at him. Nothing more needed to be said at that point. He nodded his head and returned to staring out the window at the passing scenery. About ten minutes later, Rossi turned the vehicle into the parking area of the hospital. He unbuckled his seat belt, and followed Rossi inside the hospital where they made their way to the nurses' desk. Both men produced their credentials for the nurse to see. She looked at them nervously.

"Excuse me," Rossi said in a friendly voice. "But can you tell us what room we might find Aaron Hotchner? He's an FBI agent admitted yesterday."

The nurse, still a bit flustered, swallowed hard. "Just a moment. Let me check." She typed away on her computer keyboard. "That's H.O.T.C.H.N.E.R., right?" she asked glancing at Rossi. He nodded. She typed away again. "Here we are. Aaron Hotchner. He's in room 401. Go down the hall and make a left. You'll find a bank of elevators. Just take one to the fourth floor."

"How is he?" Rossi asked.

"He had a restful night. He awoke early this morning and was still in pain. Doctor Caswell has been to examine him, and prescribed an added dose of pain med for him. He is pleased with his progress, and expects a full recovery."

"Thank you," Rossi smiled as the two men turned and walked down the hall. After he heard Hotch had a restful night, and was expected to make a full recovery, it was the best news he could get. _Now if we can get him to recover emotionally._ Once they found the bank of elevators, Moeller pressed the button on one and the doors hissed open. He and Rossi stepped inside, and the older man pressed the button for the fourth floor. The ride upward was blessedly quick, and they were grateful they were alone the entire ride. After they reached their destination, the doors hissed open, and the two men stepped out of the elevator. They walked down the hall until they found room 401.

Rossi paused outside the room, his hand frozen on the door. All of them had been in the hospital at one time or another. But for an unknown reason, he dreaded what he might see once he opened the door. He took in and let out a deep breath, and pushed open the door. He and Moeller exchanged pleasantries with the two agents inside, and waited until they left allowing them privacy. His eyes stung as they at once fell on the motionless man laying in the bed who appeared to be sleeping. The man didn't move, even when Rossi grabbed the hard plastic chair against the wall, and moved it beside the bed. He sat down, reached out, and gripped his friend's hand tightly in his. Rossi blinked several times to keep his tears at bay. It wouldn't do to cry now. It could cause Hotch to suspect his injuries were worse than believed.

"Dave…" Hotch whispered in a scratchy voice when someone grabbed his hand. He slowly turned his head toward his friend and winced at the movement. "I thought…it…was you." He forced a smile to appear. "Smelled your…crappy…aftershave."

Although suspecting the pain meds were working, Rossi bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering. He took in Hotch's overall appearance. His friend's face was swollen and ugly multicolored bruises had formed. It broke his heart with the difficulty his friend had breathing due to the cracked and bruised ribs. He realized the cannula inserted in his nostrils helped make breathing easier. Rossi brushed the loose strands of black hair off his friend's sweaty forehead. "Te amo, Aaron," he said with a smile, his eyes moist. "Te amo."

Hotch offered him a smile which came out more as a grimace. Every movement caused pain, so Hotch tried to keep his body still for once instead of trying to move. (1)

"Aaron," Rossi leaned closer to his friend. "I realize it's a stupid question, but how do you feel?"

"I've…been better," Hotch said weakly. Rossi figured his friend's voice sounded the way it did because he had been strangled and there was bruising on the throat. He noticed Hotch's eyes shift to Moeller. "Detective," Hotch managed with recognition.

"Agent Hotchner," Moeller forced a smile to his lips as he took in the man's appearance. It saddened him to see this man in his current condition. He had no idea what Hotchner was going through, or what he would be once he understood what was done to him. He didn't envy what the man and his team faced. Nor did he want to trouble him right now with questions, but they had to be asked.

"Uh…are you up to answering a few questions?" he reluctantly asked.

"Only if you…can answer…a question…for me."

Rossi ran a calloused thumb over the back of Hotch's hand. "What is it, Aaron?" he asked.

Hotch winced as he painfully swallowed the lump in his throat. While the morphine drip helped lessen the intensity of the pain, his entire body still hurt, and he didn't understand why or what happened. "Why am I…in a hos…pital?"

Rossi glanced back at Moeller nervously before he faced his friend again. "You don't remember being admitted to the hospital?" he asked. From his expression, he could see Hotch didn't. Rossi understood he now had to choose his words carefully.

"Aaron, you were in an accident," Rossi explained slowly, not wanting to show too much right now. He figured it might be best, for now at least, to alter the cause of the injuries. "You were injured."

"Accident?"

"Yes. Don't you remember?" asked Rossi, worried. He knew Hotch exhibited one of the symptoms of Rohypnol.

Hotch let out a deep breath, and grimaced from the pain in his rib area. "No. Last thing…I remember…is being…in a bar."

Rossi arched both eyebrows. "What bar? Do you remember the name?"

"The Serendipity," Hotch said.

"Aaron, did you go straight to the Serendipity?"

"What does…it matter?"

"We're just trying to determine your movements after you left work until the accident," Moeller added. This seemed to satisfy Hotch. "So, did you go straight to the bar?"

"Yes." Hotch tried shifting his position, and gritted his teeth as a wave of intense pain shot through his entire body in spite of the morphine. He gasped causing him to squeeze Rossi's hand painfully. Rossi winced momentarily.

"Aaron, try not to move," Rossi told him, swallowing the lump in his throat, ignoring the tight grip on his hand. "Keep still, and let the morphine do its job." He looked back at Moeller who looked as affected by the man's reaction as he had been. "Go find the doctor. Go."

"On my way," Moeller said and quickly left the room.

Alone, Rossi ran his free hand gently over his friend's dark hair. "Aaron, do you remember how you ended up in the Serendipity?"

Hotch looked at Rossi. He didn't answer right away as he waited until the pain eased enough. He lessened his grip on his friend's hand. "Had phone call…old friend…asked me…to meet him…there. Said I…would."

"Who was it, Hotch? Who called you?"

"Old college friend…Darryl Wheaton…haven't seen him…in years." He winced again.

"Take it easy," Rossi reminded him. "The doctor will be here soon. Just try and relax until then. Can you do that for an old man?" He smiled.

"Not…old…" A frown suddenly appeared. "Why can't…I remember…an accident…Dave?"

Rossi smiled through his tears. "You probably have amnesia as Reid would tell you if he was here."

"Any…body…else…hurt?"

"No. Nobody was hurt," Rossi lower lip trembled as he spoke. "I wouldn't lie to you, so you need not worry." He could feel the tension lessen in his friend's body by continuing to hold his hand.

Hotch tried to stifle a yawn and failed miserably. Despite how tired he was, he sensed his friend was withholding something from him. "If accident…why guards…in room?"

Rossi was thrown by Hotch's observation. In his current condition, he had hoped something like this would have escaped his friend. He decided after this visit, the guards inside will be moved outside with the others so Hotch wouldn't be concerned. "There are no guards, Aaron. Those two guys are visiting somebody else. They thought they would stop by and say hello to a fellow agent." Rossi hoped Hotch believed him.

Even with dulled senses, Hotch sensed Rossi was lying to him. But before he could ask another question, the door opened, and Doctor Caswell and Detective Moeller walked into the room. Moeller stood with his back against the wall beside the door, out of the way, and watched. Caswell stood at the head of the bed beside Rossi's chair.

"Agent Hotchner, I'm Doctor Caswell. I operated on you when you were admitted. I understand from Detective Moeller that you are still having a lot of pain. Can you give me an idea where it hurts the most?"

"Ev'ry…where…" Hotch admitted.

Rossi looked up at the doctor. "Can you give him more pain meds or something?" he asked. The answer he got was not only not what he expected, but created trouble.

"He's getting the most amount of pain meds now," Caswell explained. "With the Rohypnol in his system, I don't dare increase it. It might be dangerous." The doctor paused at the glare directed at him by Rossi.

"Rohyp…nol?" asked Hotch in a barely audible voice. From his job he knew what Rohypnol was, and for what it was used. And even in his current state, he understood what the ramifications of ingesting it were. He looked at his best friend. "Dave…was I…raped?" he asked as tears appeared in his eyes. He now understood why he didn't remember anything from the time he was in the bar, until the time he woke up in the hospital. _Raped! _He had been raped. How could he have let this happen? He was a trained federal agent. He should have been able to prevent this from happening.

Rossi swallowed the lump in his throat. He would have given anything to keep his friend from finding out the truth. Not until he had been able to handle it better anyway. But he also realized he could not lie to him now."Yes, Aaron, you were. I'm sorry. But right now you are blaming yourself, and it's not your fault. In no way. You were a victim of a terrible crime. And we will find the bastard who did this to you. I promise."

"You should have…told me…Dave. I…knew you…holding…something from me." He squeezed his eyes shut as tears rolled out of the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you. I never wanted you to find out this way."

"Get out," he ordered Rossi.

"Agent Hotchner…" Moeller began.

"You can… get out too."

"Aaron…" Rossi pleaded, hating to see his friend this upset.

"Get out…Dave. All of you…just…get out. Leave me…alone…" Hotch turned his head away from Rossi, and stared at the far wall as tears continued to run from the corners of his eyes.

"Agent Hotchner…" Caswell said letting out a sigh, but Rossi's hand on his arm stopped him.

"I wouldn't say anything else if I were you, doctor," Rossi got to his feet, his harsh stare never leaving the doctor's face. "I think you've said enough for now. Don't you?" His eyes told Caswell not to disagree with him.

The doctor swallowed the lump in his throat. He hadn't meant to say anything about the Rohypnol. But while trying to explain why he couldn't give Hotchner an increase of his pain meds, it slipped out. Also, he really didn't know if it was dangerous to give the man any more morphine until the Rohypnol was out of his system. Looking regretfully into Rossi's eyes, he nodded and quickly walked past Moeller and out of the room. Moeller quietly left the room next leaving Rossi alone with Hotch.

"Aaron…." Rossi started.

"I just have…one question…" Hotch kept his head turned away from Rossi. The pain lessened if he kept his body still which was difficult for him.

"What is it?"

"Was I…sodomized also?"

Rossi's silence spoke volumes. Hotch squeezed his eyes shut again and allowed his emotions to take over his body. "Never mind. I have…my answer. Now get out."

"I'll go for now. But just remember one thing. Somebody slipped you a date rape drug, and did this to you against your will. You did not allow this and are not to blame. And I promise you, if this Darryl Wheaton is responsible, he will pay."

Hearing his friend's name caused Hotch to open his eyes wide. Darryl. What had happened to Darryl? Had he been attacked as well? Is that why he wasn't here? He heard the sound of a door open and Rossi leaving the room.

"I want you to remember one other thing, Aaron. And I speak for the entire team when I tell you this. Te amamos, Aaron. Te amamos." The door closed leaving Hotch alone with his thoughts.(2)

* * *

(1) Te amo can be said to a male/female friend as long as both know there is no sexual/physical attraction between them.

(2) Te amamos means 'we love you.'


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Please excuse the rough language. I had difficulty with this chapter, not with the content, but with getting it the way I wanted it.**

**Chapter 9**

Hotch lay on his side staring at a spot on the far wall, alone in his hospital room. _Raped! I was raped and sodomized! I let it happen! It's my fault!_ He squeezed his eyes shut as the words kept replaying themselves in his mind. It was then the voice of his late father, Daniel Hotchner, boomed in his mind and blamed him, too, for everything. _You're a weak, pathetic little bastard, Aaron. Always were. You let a man fuck you like a little girl. You let it happen. I always knew you were a worthless little piece of shit._ Aaron painfully swallowed the growing lump in his throat, his eyes moist. He closed them hoping to stop the tears from falling.

_Raped! I was raped! And sodomized! _His lower lip quivered. _How can I have let this happen? _When he opened his eyes, there was an older man's image standing and staring at him with accusatory eyes. Figuring his mind was playing tricks on him, he closed them again.

"You're nothing but a weak, pathetic excuse for a man," the voice boomed. "A real man wouldn't let another man fuck him in the ass like you did. You let another man use you like a whore," the voice stated coldly.

"Dad?" Hotch asked having opened his red, wet eyes to stare at the image in front of him. The face of the image was blurred. But there was no mistaking that voice. It taunted him. Belittled him.

"Don't call me that," the voice continued. "I didn't raise no whore! And that's what you are. A whore!"

"But it…wasn't…my fault, dad. I was…drugged."

Then came the laughter; the cruel, mocking laughter. "So you were drugged. So what? You think that excuses what you let happen? You're an embarrassment, boy. A damn embarrassment! Look at you. Crying like a girl. You ain't no son of mine! I didn't raise no son to cry like a woman, or be a whore!"

"I'm sorry, dad," Hotch whispered as the tears built up in his eyes. "I'm…so sorry." He bit his lower lip. Hotch tried to recall both the assault, and who was responsible, but couldn't. He had no idea what happened. It was like a giant eraser had entered his mind, and wiped away all memory of what happened after he and Darryl had met at the Serendipity. But that was what Rohypnol did. It caused amnesia. Hotch didn't agree if that was a good or bad thing. All he did understand were three things. One, somebody violated him in the worst possible way. Two, he had let it happen as his father stated. And three, his best friend had lied to him. He squeezed his eyes shut again and when he opened them, the image was gone and he was alone again.

"I'm…sorry…dad," he kept his voice low. "I'm…sorry…to be such…a dis…appointment."

* * *

Rossi and Moeller faced the doctor once they were a safe distance from Hotch's room. Rossi could tell that Caswell truly was sorry for misspeaking. But his apologetic expression did little to appease his anger, and he had no problem letting the doctor know it.

"Agent Rossi, I can't tell you again how sorry I am about letting that information slip out."

"Yeah, well, that may be, doctor," Rossi replied, his eyes hard, his voice cold. "But it doesn't change the fact that Aaron now knows what happened to him. I didn't want him to find out this way. He wasn't ready to deal with that knowledge."

Caswell nodded grimly. "I promise it won't happen again."

"No it won't," Rossi assured him. "Because I want you to remove yourself from Aaron's care after you select another doctor to replace you. After that, I don't want you within spitting distance of Aaron. Do I make myself clear?"

Caswell's eyes narrowed. "I will not remove myself…"

"You can and you will, doctor. If you refuse or don't, I will have you removed myself. And believe me when I say I have the contacts to make it happen. You should consider yourself lucky I don't have you fired. So, do we understand each other?"

Caswell swallowed hard and smirked. The doctor stared at this man in front of him. Something in his eyes told him Rossi scared him. With a deep sigh and shoulders sagged, he nodded.

"I understand," he said, defeated. "Before the day is over, Agent Hotchner will have a different physician. Will that be soon enough for you?"

Rossi considered it. A slow smile crossed his face. "It does. Just make sure it happens. Now, I suggest you get out of my sight."

The doctor nodded to both Rossi and Moeller, then turned quickly on his heels and walked away leaving the two men watching his receding back. Once Caswell was out of sight, Moeller glanced at Rossi.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," the detective grinned.

Rossi chuckled. "Don't worry, detective. I promise I'll give you advance notice before I go off on you." He let out a deep breath and gazed at the closed door of Hotch's room. "I just have no idea what's going through Aaron's mind right now. But if we push him after this, he might close down totally." He looked at Moeller. "I suggest we give him space right now. Perhaps come back this evening and question him."

Moeller sighed and glanced at the closed door himself for a few seconds before turning back to Rossi. "I think you might be right. We need answers. But we should give him a little time to process from this information." He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. "So what do we do until then?"

Rossi let out a deep breath. "Before the roof caved in on Hotch, he did give me a name. Darryl Wheaton. Said he was an old college friend of his. Called him and asked him to meet him at the Serendipity. Our tech analyst tried to find something on Wheaton, but we didn't have a last name until now. All she found is that he used a burn phone when he called Hotch. Now that we have a last name, I'll have her run a check on this Darryl Wheaton."

Moeller wrapped his arms around himself. "You think he might be responsible for what happened to Agent Hotchner?"

"I'm not sure. But I am sure he might be able to shed light on a few things." Rossi looked at his watch to check the time. "I have to leave. Can I drop you somewhere?"

"Yeah. You can drop me at the station. Hopefully your Agent Morgan is making headway with Yardley. I can update you if he finds out anything. And I'll check if our lab has processed those swabs the hospital sent."

"Thanks. I appreciate it," Rossi told him. The two men proceeded to walk down the hall to the elevators.

* * *

Aaron Hotchner was still staring blankly at the far wall when the door of his room opened. He didn't turn to find out who it was who entered. He didn't care.

"Whoever you are, go away," Hotch ordered his voice void of emotion. He didn't want to see or speak with anybody. _How can anybody even stand to look at me after what I allowed to happen? Don't they understand? I'm damaged goods. I'm weak. I'm not worth anybody's compassion or sympathy. I'm worthless._

"Aaron?" a female voice called out to him. Hotch didn't turn around and take notice of who had spoken even though he recognized the voice.

"Jessica, please…go away. I don't want…to speak anybody…right now. Please."

"Aaron, I need you to look at me. I ran into Agent Rossi as he was leaving with a Detective Moeller. He told me you didn't want to talk to anybody. I…I hope that doesn't include me."

Hotch let out a deep breath, but kept his head turned away from his ex-sister-in-law. "Where's Jack? Why aren't…you…with him? You didn't…bring him…here…did you?"

"No. Jack's with my next-door neighbor, Bethany. After Agent Rossi told me you were in the hospital, I had Bethany come by and stay with Jack while I came here. He's fine, but worried about his daddy. He wants to see you."

Hotch's chest tightened. He recalled having met Bethany Jamison once when dropping his son at Jessica's, and liked her very much. She was a single mother of two little girls a year older than Jack. She often watched Jack when Jess wasn't able to, and Jack enjoyed playing with her daughters, Cassie and Delilah. He knew his son was safe with Bethany and need not worry. But right now he wanted to see his son. But his father's voice took over again. _No son would want to see a weakling like you. How do you think he's going to feel knowing what you let happen? He's going to hate you for allowing it, for being so damned weak. He's better off not seeing you. _His lower lip trembled.

"Go…home…Jess…please," he begged. "Tell Jack…tell him…I can't…see him. Hate…me…"

Jessica was appalled. "What are you talking about, Aaron? Jack loves you. He could never hate you." She paused a few seconds. "Aaron, I want to help you get over what happened. So does Jack. He misses his daddy."

Hotch closed his eyes at those words. _Rossi told her about the rape. I know he did. How could he? She doesn't care. She's just acting like she does. I don't want or need her pity._ _I don't need anybody's pity. _He opened his eyes and saw the image again with the twisted sneer on his face. "She thinks you're weak as well. Just imagine what that little brat of yours is going to think. Especially when he finds out his daddy let a guy poke him in the ass."

"Jack is…not…a brat," Hotch declared adamantly to no-one.

"What?" asked Jessica, mystified at Hotch's choice of words. "I never said…"

"Just get…out," Hotch repeated, hoping he sounded more authoritative.

"Aaron, please…" Jessica begged him, her voice trembling as tears built in her eyes. "Talk to me." She had no idea why Hotch was acting like this. All Rossi had told her was that Aaron had been attacked. But something else had happened that had changed him. She only wished he would talk to her. Sadly, she had no idea what to do for him. Or how to help him.

Hotch refused to answer her. He hoped his silence would make her leave before he said something he might regret. After a few minutes of listening to Jessica's sniffling, he closed his eyes hoping to let himself fall asleep. He failed.

"I'm going to leave now, Aaron, but I'll come back later to visit you. Just remember that Jack and I love you. I'm also sure Haley is looking down from heaven, and is worried sick about you and what happened. She wouldn't want you to push away the people who love and care about you. You just remember that." Hotch heard the sound of a door close and realized Jessica had walked out. The image had left as well. He was now alone as he should be.

Why can't he remember the attack? Despite the Rohypnol, why can't he remember something…anything? And where was Darryl? Why wasn't he here visiting him? Had something happened to him? Did whoever attacked him done the same or worse to Darryl? If he can just remember everything after he arrived at the bar until he woke up in a hospital.

He wracked his brain hoping that despite the Rohypnol, he could force his brain to remember what happened. He wanted to, no, needed to know what happened. It was important to him that he find out, For his own piece of mind he needed to find out.

_You're a weak, little bastard, _his father's voice exploded in his mind causing his lower lip to quiver. _You disgust me! You let yourself be used like a whore! I'm embarrassed you even share my last name. I didn't raise a damn whore for a son. That's what you are. A damn whore! A damn, worthless whore who calls himself a man, much less my son. You are an embarrassment_ _to me!_

"_Why does he hate me so much?"_ Hotch asked himself. _"Why does he blame me for something that wasn't my fault? I was drugged." _He muffled a sob as tears blinded him. _"But_ _I am to blame_. _I let it happen. Jack will never understand that his father let another man treat him like a whore. He'll hate me. I hate me. I let it happen. It's my fault."_ The tears fell from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm so…sorry…" he sobbed. "Dad…I'm sorry. Didn't...mean to…disappoint…you. I'm…sorry."

But the voice of Daniel Hotchner was relentless. "It's too late for I'm sorry, boy."

"I'll…do better. I…promise…"

Daniel Hotchner laughed. "You're just a worthless little piece of shit. You're not even worth my time. You're not even worth anybody's pity. You're useless except for satisfying another man."

"I'll…do better. You'll see." The only response Hotch got was laughter. He closed his eyes and allowed exhaustion to overtake him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

As he focused on the task in front of him, Morgan handed his service weapon to the uniformed cop seated outside the doorway leading to the interrogation rooms. But he kept a brown folder tucked under his arm. "I'm here to question the prisoner," he announced. "His name's Benjamin Yardley."

"Yes, sir. Detective Moeller called and said you were to be allowed to question the suspect. He's in interrogation room one."

"Thanks," Morgan announced while trying to calm himself before he met with Yardley. Every fiber of his being told him to turn off the cameras, and pound the man into the floor for what he had done to Hotch. But that wouldn't solve anything. Besides, Yardley hardly looked like someone who could be the Rohypnol rapist. But looks can be deceiving. Also, the agent was certain the man had something to offer in their investigation. He stood outside interrogation room one, and took in and let out a deep breath to calm himself.

"It's about fuckin' time somebody come talk to me!" Yardley shouted from his seat behind a metal table when the door opened. The only furniture in the entire room were a metal table and two chairs, one on each side of the table.

Morgan stood in front of the door studying the man for several seconds. Yardley's hands were shackled in front of him with the chain between the cuffs running through a loop attached to the table. Also, there were similar restraints attached to his ankles. The man's eyes were narrowed slits and focused on Morgan like laser beams. After a few more seconds, Morgan approached the table, and pulled out the chair. He sat down and lay the folder on the table in front of him.

Yardley snickered. "You gonna sit there and stare at me?" Morgan remained silent and continued to stare. Yardley smirked. "Tell you what. Why don't you send that hot-looking woman with the dark hair in here, and take off these cuffs? I'll show her how cooperative I can be."

Morgan's eyes hardened. "I suggest you watch your mouth when you speak about Agent Prentiss," he growled. He reached for the folder, opened it, and removed four black and white 8x10 close-up photos. He spread them on the table in front of the man. Then he pushed two photos closer.

"You recognize this?" asked Morgan, his eyes never leaving Yardley's face.

"Yeah. What about it?"

Morgan stabbed a forefinger on the other photo of the back of the timepiece which showed the engraving clearly. "See this inscription? It's the inscription Agent Hotchner had engraved on the back after his wife passed away to commemorate her birthday. Now I want you to tell me how this watch ended up in your possession?"

Yardley smirked as he stared at the agent. "I told you. My old lady bought it at a pawnshop. The engraving was already there."

Morgan's expression did not change. He maintained his glare. "You said pawnshop. Earlier in your apartment when we arrested you, you didn't remember where she supposedly bought it. Now you suddenly remember where."

Yardley grinned. He found this entire thing comical so far. "What can I say? I forgot my wife likes goin' to the pawnshop. Ya find a few good deals there."

"How about this?" Morgan shoved a photo of Hotch's cell towards the man. "Your wife buy that at the same pawnshop?"

"Probably."

Morgan really hated this obnoxious bastard. "You do realize this a Bureau issued Blackberry? All agents are issued this for business purposes."

"Don't know nothin' 'bout that. All I know is my wife bought it at a pawnshop."

"What's the name of this pawnshop?"

Yardley shrugged. "Don't remember," he replied sarcastically.

"Then let's try this one. How about you explain to me how your fingerprints were found on Agent Hotchner's wallet?" Morgan held up the fourth photo showing the wallet.

"I already told you I was checkin' 'im for ID. You're probably gonna find my prints on a lot of things."

"Yeah, well…funny you should say that. We did a little checking. Seems you are suspected of robbing several tenants in your building. The police are searching your apartment as we speak." Morgan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Now how much do you want to bet they find the stolen items belonging to your tenants in your apartment?" Yardley frowned and ground his lower jaw.

Yardley shifted in his chair and now glared at the agent seated across from him. "I ain't been found guilty of nothin'! And you can search all you want, but you ain't gonna find nothin' belongin' to nobody in my apartment cause I didn't steal nothin'!"

"I also found out you were accused of sexual assault on a woman who lives in a building near yours."

"That's a lie! I didn't assault nobody!"

"Y'know what I believe, Yardley? I believe you did assault that woman. And afterward you scared her into changing her mind instead of pressing charges."

"She changed her mind cause I didn't do nothin' to the woman, that's why. I'm married."

Morgan lay both hands flat on the table and sat straight in his chair. He patted the table. "Y'know what, Yardley? I'm wastin' my time with you."

"Told you," the janitor smirked. "If you ain't gonna bring that dark-haired woman in here, can I leave and go home?"

Morgan smirked and slowly got to his feet. He started to walk away, stopped, and faced Yardley. " 'Fraid not. We have you on possession of stolen merchandise. Assault of a federal agent. Sexual assault of said federal agent. And robbery of said agent. And once the locals finish tearing apart your apartment, I'm sure there will be other charges."

Yardley leaned over the table straining at his shackles. "I ain't no fag! I ain't into men like your agent!" He smirked. But the smirk quickly faded when Morgan's fist slammed down on the tabletop causing the man to jump in his chair.

"You watch your mouth!" the agent hissed. Yardley chuckled. But with less bravado.

"Why? You fancy 'im yourself? I bet you do. You got the hots for this guy. Damn shame. I bet that female agent could grow hair on that bald head of yours." He laughed when Morgan ground his jaw.

"You find all of this one big joke, don't you?" asked Morgan reigning in his emotions. "I wonder how funny you'll find it when you go to prison for rape, sexual assault, and robbery." He approached the table again, lay both palms flat, and brought his face real close to Yardley's. "And once you're in prison, I'm gonna make damn sure everybody there knows about your preference for men." He then stood up and waited.

"You wouldn't dare," Yardley declared. But Morgan could read the fear in the man.

"I would," Morgan assured him. "Unless you tell me what I want to know."

"I ain't no fag!"

Morgan shrugged. "Don't matter to me, because you're gonna go down for all of it. And I figure those inmates are gonna love getting their hands on you. They're gonna do to you everything you did to Agent Hotchner and worse." A smirk appeared on the agent's face. "Now a few inmates may congratulate you because he's a cop. But there will be those who have unpleasant thoughts about you. I can promise you that. Those are the ones I'd be worried about if I were you, Yardley. Especially when it's nighttime."

Yardley swallowed the growing lump in his throat as all thoughts of going to prison and labeled a homosexual flooded his brain. He had heard what happens to men in prison who were homosexuals, or suspected of being one. The thought terrified him. He watched Morgan turn and start walking away toward the door.

"Wait!" Yardley raised his voice. Morgan stopped in front of the door and turned his body halfway. Yardley let out a deep breath. "I'll tell you whatever you wanna know. But you can't tell anybody stuff like that."

"That depends," Morgan replied calmly. "Now, why don't you start by telling me what you saw or heard when you found Agent Hotchner unconscious in that alley."

* * *

Prentiss and Reid walked into Garcia's office to find her hard at work at one of her computers. She paused long enough to spin around in her chair when the door opened. Studying their faces, there was disgust on the face of one Emily Prentiss.

"What's with the long faces, my raven-haired beauty, and junior G-man?"

Prentiss fell onto the chair beside Garcia's, while Reid stood behind her but between her and Garcia, with arms crossed. Prentiss explained what she and Morgan had found when they spoke with Benjamin Yardley.

"You mean that sorry excuse for a human robbed my liege after he found him injured?" Garcia asked with angry eyes staring from behind her red eyeglass frames.

"Not only that," Prentiss added crossing her legs. "But there's a possibility he either sexually attacked Hotch, or was at least the partner."

Garcia's eyes widened. "Where is this bastard? He should be shot! Boiled in oil. Tarred and feathered. Drawn and quartered. Hung from the…"

Prentiss grinned and held up a hand interrupting the tech analyst. "Don't worry, Garcia. He's been turned over to the locals, and facing something much worse. Morgan is questioning him right now."

"Good," Garcia replied turning back to her keyboard and resumed typing. "If anybody can get the truth, it's my Chocolate God."

"Benjamin Yardley doesn't seem to fit the profile we had of the Rohypnol rapist," Reid interjected, looking thoughtful.

Prentiss looked up at him. "I admit he doesn't look like much, and hardly fits the image of what a rapist would be. But considering his record, what makes you say that?"

"Just what you said. He doesn't look the part."

Garcia stopped typing again and looked back at Reid. "You mean a rapist looks a certain way?"

"No, not at all." Reid became animated. "What I'm saying is we profiled the Rohypnol rapist as somebody agile and capable of overpowering a full grown adult male with seemingly little difficulty. From what I saw of Benjamin Yardley, he hardly looks likes someone who could overpower anybody, especially not a man. Not even one affected by Rohypnol."

"But he was accused of raping a woman," Prentiss pointed out quickly. "Could attacking Hotch be so difficult to fathom?"

"Not at all. But, and I don't mean anything when I say this. A woman can be overpowered by use of a gun or a knife. And although her attacker may be armed, a woman will often fight her attacker anyway. But nine times out of ten, she will comply because she hopes by doing so her attacker will not kill her afterward. But a man is different. Also, over 250,000 cases of rape, or attempted rape of a man, are recorded by police annually. In fact, one in ten rape victims are men, and only 9% of males are raped while ninety-one percent are women. And of that total, ninety-nine percent of rapists of men are other men, while twenty-two percent of rapists are someone the male victim knows."(1)

When he finished , he noticed Garcia and Prentiss both staring at him, mouths open.

"What?" Reid queried, confused.

"Just think, Em. He said all that without stopping to breath," Garcia teased.

Reid looked both puzzled and confused. "I don't get it," he said. "What does that mean? If you mean I was being long winded…"

"Forget it, Reid," Prentiss told him with a impassive face. "But despite the statistics, Hotch was under the effects of Rohypnol. And from what I know about the drug, it causes a person to have difficulty with their motor movements, have trouble standing, and appear drunk. And to somebody who didn't know him, Hotch would appear drunk."

"True. But keep in mind Rohypnol takes about thirty minutes for someone to feel the effects of the drug and the effects can last several hours. Hotch is a trained agent. During that thirty minutes, I believe he would have fought his attacker. At least until the drug's full effects took over and he fell under it's control." He looked from Emily to Garcia and back to Prentiss again. "During that time, do you really believe a man like Yardley could overpower Hotch even if he's drugged?"

"Maybe he's the partner?" asked Garcia.

"Anything's possible. But I don't believe he's anymore than someone who robbed Hotch of his cell phone, watch and any cash when he found him in that alley."

Now Garcia was confused. "Why do you say that, my adorable super genius?"

Reid crossed his arms and focused on the tech analyst. "It was something Morgan said after he arrested Yardley." His eyes shifted to the brunette woman. "Remember when he said he didn't think Yardley attacked Hotch, but that he might not be telling everything he knows?"

Emily's eyes lifted recalling the conversation. "Yeah, he did. In fact, as we took him outside in cuffs, Morgan said something else. He told me that Yardley was too much of a classic narcissist to have assaulted Hotch. But he was positive the man knows something."

"So where does that leave us?" asked a now depressed Garcia looking between her friends.

Prentiss shook her head. "Back at square one. Unless Yardley is somehow involved or can give us something." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of what was on the computer screen in front of them. She leaned forward to have a closer look. "Who's Darryl Wheaton?"

"Oh, Rossi called while you guys were gone. Darryl Wheaton is the name of an old college friend of Hotch's." The tech analyst turned back to her screens as Reid leaned over her shoulder while Prentiss rolled her chair closer. "Our Italian Stallion found out that he called our liege the evening of the attack. He asked Hotch to meet him at a bar called the Serendipity which, as you know, is not far from here. Rossi wants me to look up this Darryl Wheaton. Then check the surveillance system at the Serendipity to see if Hotch showed up with Wheaton or met him there."

"And did he?" asked Reid.

"Y'know, my genius, you should be glad I like you as much as I do. How dare you doubt me." Garcia rolled her chair a short way to another computer screen, and typed. Prentiss and Reid gathered around her. "Stand by to be amazed." Less than a minute later, the inside of the Serendipity appeared on the screen. Seconds later, Hotch could be seen walking inside the bar alone. Garcia pointed to him. "There's Hotch. And as you can see, he is completely alone. Now watch closely." The trio continued watching as Hotch looked around and made his way to the bar where he hugged a man. Both wore wide smiles. "I'm guessing that's Darryl Wheaton who was there waiting for him." The tape continued for a few minutes as Hotch ordered a drink. Several minutes later, the agent removed his cell phone and looked at it. He then walked away and left the bar. "He received a phone call, and left, leaving his friend and his drink at the bar. But pay attention to what happens next." As they did so, the bartender approached Wheaton and the two had a brief exchange. Then, the bartender discreetly poured something into Hotch's drink and walked away in full view of Wheaton.

"Looks like the bartender poured something into Hotch's drink," Reid remarked as his eyes narrowed. "That must be when Hotch was given the Rohypnol."

Moments later, the tape showed Hotch returning, and finishing his drink while talking to Wheaton.

"That means the bartender must be in on it also," Prentiss added.

"Exactamundo," Garcia said. "But that's not all." As more time elapsed, Hotch appeared to become unsteady. They saw Wheaton help lead Hotch out of the bar. Nobody seemed to come to Hotch's aid or even inquire. The tape ended after that.

Garcia began to rummage around her tabletop. "I got as much of a close-up of Wheaton and the bartender as I could. Which, you will see, isn't as much as I'd like to get." She found the photos of the two men, and handed one each to Reid and Emily who studied their photos before they exchanged them with each other.

"Is Rossi still at the hospital with Hotch?" Reid asked the tech analyst.

Garcia rolled her chair back to her original computer and resumed typing. "Nope. He said Mon Capitan's stupid Doctor Caswell let it slip out about the Rohypnol in front of Hotch. That led to our liege figuring out he had been raped. Rossi's demanded a replacement to care for Hotch."

"I would think so," Prentiss added disgustingly.

"Anyway, Hotch has no memory of what happened to him. And once the doctor let the cat out of the bag so to speak, Rossi told him the rest. But he did say after he dropped Detective Moeller at the precinct, he was coming back here. I promised to have this info for him when he gets back."

Prentiss got to her feet. "Then let's not waste time. C'mon, genius."

"Where are we going?" Reid asked as he followed Emily to the door.

"We are going to the Serendipity. We need to have a talk with that bartender." She tucked both photos inside her jacket. "Tell Rossi where we went," she said over her shoulder as she and Reid walked out the door.

Garcia waved a hand while not looking at them. "Stay safe my lovelies. Tootles." She faintly heard the door close as she was concentrating on what she had found on Darryl Wheaton.

* * *

(1) The statistics I had Reid give are from various web sites.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid walked into the Serendipity to find it empty of patrons which wasn't surprising. It was still too early for them to be open. But there were people in the bar. They were setting things up for when the bar did open later. One of the men setting up chairs spotted them and looked up, annoyed at the interruption.

"We're closed," he said. "We'll be open later. Come back then."

"We're not here for the drinks and entertainment," Prentiss explained as she and Reid both held up their badges. "Agent Prentiss and Doctor Reid. We're with the FBI." As the agents put their credentials away, there was a noticeable silence falling on those closest to them. The man who had addressed them arched both eyebrows in surprise.

"FBI? No fooling." He put down the chair he held, and brushing his hands on his jeans, approached the agents. "I'm Tim Janacek, the owner. What can I do for the feds?"

Emily reached into her pocket and pulled out the photos. "We're not interested in you." She held up both pictures. "Do you know either of these men?"

The man took the photos from her and studied each one separately. "He doesn't look familiar to me," he said handing back Wheaton's photo.

"Are you sure?" asked the female agent again holding up Wheaton's photo. "He came to your club last night alone, and waited at the bar. He met a man who arrived later. They both remained at the bar."

"Lady, I don't know him as I just said. Sorry." Janacek then studied the other photo. "This is Todd. Todd Westlake." He handed the photo back to Prentiss. "He's one of our bartenders. He works here three nights a week. Sometimes more if we need him to fill in for someone." He crossed his arms across his chest. "Why? He in trouble or something?"

"Or something," Reid replied. "What can you tell us about him?"

Janacek shrugged his shoulders. "Nice guy. Works hard. No complaints. Why?"

"Was he scheduled to work last night?" asked Reid.

"Yeah, he was. Todd works Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from six in the evening until midnight. And alternate weekends from six to ten. What's he done for you to ask me these questions?"

Prentiss held up Wheaton's photo again. "Take another look at the photo. Are you sure you've never seen Westlake in the company of this man?" She held up Wheaton's photo again.

"Positive."

"Is there anybody he's close to at work?" Reid asked. "Somebody he might confide in maybe?"

"No. Todd's a loner who keeps to himself at work. He does his job and leaves. Look, I don't feel comfortable talking about an employee. Why are you askin' me these questions?"

"One last question, Mr. Janacek. Can you give us Mr. Westlake's home address?" asked Prentiss.

* * *

Morgan sat across from Yardley with hands clasped on the table, waiting. His stare at the janitor never wavered.

"I'm waiting," Morgan said when be suspected the janitor was stalling.

Yardley glanced at the federal agent understanding he had no choice. He figured if he was going to admit anything, he might as well try and get something out of it for himself. He looked at Morgan. "What do I get outta this if I tell you?"

Morgan kept his impassive expression. "I'll tell the DA you cooperated."

"Before I tell you anything, I want the charges against me dropped. Or I don't tell you nothin'."

Morgan's eyes narrowed and his face went cold. "First off, you don't tell me what you want. Second, from where I sit, you don't have a hand to play. And finally, once I walk out that door, I will do what I promised. So don't play games with me, Yardley, because I am in no mood."

"All right. All right. Can't blame a guy for tryin'. Sheesh." He leaned his bulk back in the chair and stared the agent directly in the face. "I was takin' out the recylin'. There was this guy in the alley. Didn't know 'im. Kinda tall. He was leanin' over something near the trash cans. But he was talkin' to somebody else 'cause there was two voices. Never saw the other guy."

Morgan's eyebrows arched. "Could you understand what they were saying?"

Yardley shook his head. "I wasn't close enough to make out much. But the guy I noticed kept sayin' something like 'I'm sure he's dead. I'm sure he's dead' to the other guy."

"Anything else?"

"The one guy I spotted didn't say nothin' to me. But since there were two of 'em, I didn't want to get involved, so I went back inside with the recylin'. By the time I came out later, both guys were gone."

Morgan let out a deep breath. "Think you can describe him to a sketch artist?"

Again Yardley shook his head. "Sorry. All I can tell you is he was tall, kinda on the thin side but not skinny, y'know. He had light hair. That's about all I remember."

Morgan studied the man in front of him for several seconds. "Why didn't you find out what they were doing? I mean, weren't you at least curious why they were there?"

Yardley shrugged. "Two against one? Are you kiddin'? I mind my own business. I mean, they coulda been a couple of fags bangin' each other" He smirked. "Hell, since your agent was with 'em, it coulda been a threesome." His smirk disgusted Morgan. The agent fought hard to control his anger. He believed Yardley was lying. His guess? The man just didn't care.

"Let's back up a bit. When you took the trash out, you were attracted to the sound of somebody moaning in pain. When you went to investigate and found Agent Hotchner, why did you rob him of his personal effects first? And if he hadn't been and FBI agent, would you have even bothered calling the police?"

Yardley shrugged. "He had that nice watch and cell phone. I figured I can use 'em so I took 'em." He shifted in his seat. "I shoulda just took the damn watch and phone and left 'im there. Somebody would have found him eventually. I mean, I try to help and get arrested."

Morgan let out a deep breath through his nose, stood up, and silently walked out of the room. He spotted Detective Moeller standing outside the one-way mirror. It was clear he had been watching and listening to the interrogation.

"You heard?" the agent asked coming to a stop beside the detective. The two men looked through the mirror at Yardley still seated and restrained in his chair.

"Yeah, I did," Moeller replied with disgust. He looked at Morgan with hands on hips. "You believe 'im?"

Morgan crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "Unfortunately I do. I mean, look at this guy. Does he seem like somebody who can carefully plan and carry out sexual assaults of several men?"

"Not really," Moeller replied. "But we both know looks can be deceiving when it comes to these animals."

"I know," answered Morgan. "But not this time."

Moeller looked at Morgan. "So what now?"

Morgan looked at Moeller. "Well, I'm gonna head back to the BAU and reconnect with my team. You have enough to hold Yardley. And I'm positive your detectives are gonna find evidence in his apartment connecting him to the robberies of several of his tenants." He held out his hand to the detective.

Moeller shook the extended hand. "I hope they have something useful. We'll handle Yardley from here. Keep me informed."

"You can count on it," Morgan assured him. Then with a final glance aimed at Yardley, Morgan turned and walked away.

* * *

JJ entered Garcia's office the same time as Dave Rossi. Garcia turned away from her screens and stared at both of them.

"Did you find anything on this Darryl Wheaton?" asked Rossi.

"Who's Darryl Wheaton?" asked a puzzled JJ.

"Old college friend of Hotch's," Rossi replied. "Asked for him to meet him at a bar called the Serendipity a few blocks from here." He suddenly glanced around the room. "Has Morgan called?"

"Yes, sir. He's on his way back from police headquarters. I think he got something out of that janitor he and Prentiss arrested."

Rossi nodded. "Speak of the devil, where are Reid and Prentiss?"

"They went to the Serendipity to speak with the bartender on duty the night Hotch was attacked." Garcia noticed the confusion on the faces of Rossi and JJ. "I'd better start at the beginning." She quickly repeated what had been found on the bar's surveillance system. Anger appeared on the older man's face.

"Anything on this Darryl Wheaton?"

"Yes, sir," Garcia rummaged around her desk and handed another photo of Wheaton to Rossi. "Darryl Wheaton attended Georgetown the same time as my liege. But as far as I can tell, he had no contact with Hotch until yesterday when he called mon Capitan to meet with him." She turned back to her monitors.

"Anything on where he's been since he disappeared after graduating?" asked JJ as she took the photo from Rossi and looked at it intently.

"Not a thing, sunshine. It's like he became the invisible man. Now you see him. Now you don't." She brought up Wheaton's history again.

"What about before he vanished?" asked Rossi standing behind Garcia's chair and looking over her shoulder at the screen. JJ sat on the edge of Garcia's desk at an angle so the screen was visible to her.

"What d'ya find, Garcia?" asked Rossi.

"Because of my miraculous capabilities, my Italian love-god, little Darryl was the son of Phyllis and Glen Wheaton, born in Kansas City, Kansas. Father was a construction worker who died in a fall from a ten-story building he was working on after suffering a massive heart attack. That left little Darryl to be raised by his mother. She got a job as a cocktail waitress at a sleazy bar where drinks weren't all they served to make ends meet. She was raped and murdered by a male patron who thought he should have gotten more for his money. He followed her home from work and broke into her home. Her son was home and slept through the attack. He didn't see or hear anything. He was then shuffled off to Virginia to live with his mom's sister, Wanda Scofield, until he turned eighteen, when he left to be on his own. He worked an assortment of jobs to help pay for school."

"Is Wanda still alive?" asked JJ.

"Sorry, but no. Wanda died over a year ago. Any who, Darryl was sole beneficiary of his mom's life insurance, and used that to pay for high school. He got himself a job in construction during the summer, and managed to save enough to pay for school supplies. His grades were good enough to earn him a scholarship to Georgetown to study law. That's when he met Hotch. And after graduation, he moved to Milwaukee and met Cynthia Hagan, a teacher in the local elementary school and they were married. They had a daughter, Alana. Oh…"

Rossi noticed the change in Garcia's voice. "What is it, kitten?"

"Cynthia died in childbirth. She hemorrhaged after giving birth and the doctors weren't able to save her. After his wife's death, he took a job as a paralegal to support himself and his daughter. He was doing really well until he suddenly quit and vanished off the face of the earth again. Until he showed up back here in Virginia yesterday, that is."

"Wait a minute," JJ interjected. "You said he moved to Milwaukee?"

Garcia looked up at the media liaison. "Uh huh. Isn't that where the Rohypnol rapist was?"

"Yes it was," Rossi interrupted. "Garcia, when did he move to Milwaukee?"

Garcia scanned her computer screen. "Uh…he moved there a week after graduating Georgetown."

"So he was in the area at the time of the attacks," JJ remarked looking directly at the older man.

"And the attacks in Milwaukee stopped around the time Wheaton left Milwaukee and moved to Virginia. And Wheaton was in Virginia when Hotch is attacked," Rossi added. "That's too much of a coincidence if you ask me."

"You think he could be the Rohypnol rapist, sir?" asked Garcia turning to face Rossi.

"Could be, Penelope. Could very well be."

"Sir, can I ask you something? Something that has nothing to do with this Darryl Wheaton sleazebag?"

"Of course, Penelope. What is it?"

"Did you get that stupid Doctor Caswell replaced as Hotch's doctor?"

"Let's put it this way, kitten. As of the end of business today, he will no longer be Hotch's physician."

"Good." Garcia said. She then bit her lower lip. "Sir, how did my liege react to the news?"

Rossi let out a deep breath. "Not well as you might imagine. Detective Moeller and I never got much of a chance to question Aaron before the roof caved in on 'im. He insisted both of us leave him alone. I'm going back later this evening to see if he'll talk to me."

"Sir, do you think it'll be all right if I go with you when you visit Hotch?"

Rossi thought for a few seconds, then stroked his goatee. "That's not a bad idea, kiddo. You just might be able to get through to Hotch if I can't."

Garcia smiled. "Does that mean yes?"

Rossi smiled. "When I go to visit Aaron later today, I'll make sure to come and get you so we can go together."

"Thank you, sir," the tech analyst replied with a wide smile and tears forming in her eyes.

It was at that moment the door to her office opened, and Morgan walked in, caught by surprise at the people inside already.

"What's going on here?" he asked curiously. "Something happen?"

"Did you get anything from Yardley?" asked Rossi. Everybody listened as Morgan repeated what the janitor had told him.

"Did the description he gave resemble this man?" JJ asked handing Morgan Wheaton's photo. The black agent studied the picture closely.

"Could be the guy," he said. "Then again, all Yardley gave me was tall with light hair." He looked back and forth between JJ and Rossi. "Who is he?"

"That's Darryl Wheaton," Rossi explained. "He's a college friend of Hotch's. He's the one who phoned him last evening, and asked him to meet him in the Serendipity."

"He also lived in Milwaukee at the time the attacks began," JJ added. "And those attacks stopped when he left. Then he miraculously shows up here in Virginia and Hotch is attacked. You do the math."

"Sounds like he could either be our guy, or the partner," Morgan stated looking at Rossi.

"Y'know…" Garcia remarked sadly looking at the black agent. "This scum is suppose to be Hotch's friend. How can he do this to him? It's gonna break mon Capitan's heart."

JJ and Morgan face Rossi, and find him as affected by Garcia's words as were they.

"Baby girl's right, Rossi," Morgan agreed. "This is gonna destroy Hotch when he finds out his college friend did this to him."

"I know," Rossi let out a deep breath. "That's why we have to be careful how we handle things. Hotch needs to be protected at all cost." He massaged his forehead. "Although I agree with Morgan. This is gonna destroy Aaron." The others agreed. He then looked at Garcia. "Penelope, do you have a current address for Darryl Wheaton?"

"Un momento, my Italian Stallion." Garcia furiously typed on her keyboard. It didn't take long for the information to appear on her screen. "I have it, Sir. He lives at 2616 Mayfern Avenue, Dumfries, Virginia."

"That's only about nine minutes from here," Rossi replied.

"We gonna pick 'im up, Rossi?" Morgan asked.

The older man grabbed the doorknob, and glanced back at Morgan. "For questioning at least. You comin'?"

Morgan smiled. "Thought you'd never ask, man."

"Be careful my loves," Garcia advised them.

"We intend to, mama," Morgan replied heading out the door behind the older man. "If Reid or Prentiss call, tell 'em where Rossi and I have gone." Not waiting for a response, he closed the door behind him.

"Will do," Garcia addressed the closed door, then exchanged looks with JJ.


End file.
